Second Chances
by Kerchan
Summary: Spock/Kirk. In Progress. Elder Spock commits the ultimate Vulcan crime to preserve Jim Kirk's sanity.
1. Chapter 1

**Second Chances**

**Pairings:** Spock x Kirk (Spirk, Spork, Kock)

**Warnings:** Homosexuality, Mature Content, Coarse Language, Angst, Body Swap, Violence

**Universe:**__nu!Trek

**Positions:**__Top!Spock x Bottom!Kirk

…

A/N – I was browsing through the challenges and found this one by extravaganser:

_kirk/spock to be rated for adult audiences_

_Ok, so I would like a fic where, while kirk is out on an emergency diplomatic mission, spock dies (on a mission down on a planet or whatever). So mccoy and old spock are standing over spock's body when old spock suggests that he take his place, by transferring his katra to the younger body and somehow convinces mccoy (if even momentarily) that this is the best course of action so now only he and mccoy know of nu! Spock's death. So kirk comes back and learns of only old spock's death, and is none the wiser. Now old spock in new body seizes the chance that he never took in his universe and begins the pursuit of his t'hy'la. I want uhura confused because spock is suddenly enamored with the captian, kirk is reluctant because he isn't a home wrecker, mccoy feels guilty for using nu!spock's body for old spock, and I definitely want a possessive, toppy , spock who know what he want and what he wants is his t'hy'la._

_Ps likes a bit of angst, p0rn, and happy-mildly happy endings_

I thought this would be very challenging to write. I hope I do an adequate job to such a specific prompt!

…

…

Second Chances

Chapter One

…

"He's dead."

Dr. McCoy stood up from the lifeless Vulcan body before him. Though the temperature felt like a summer breeze to Elder Spock, from years of watching the doctor grow, he knew that it wasn't only the heat making McCoy sweat.

The planet, which was now being called New Vulcan, was not much different from their previous homeworld. It was hot, had deserts, and had been a suitable environment for the remaining of his species. Well, _most_ of his species. Looking down at his younger self burning in the afternoon suns, he knew deep down that this place would never be his home—and Spock's death only stood as truth to this fact.

He watched, trying to emotionally detach himself from the situation, but finding it difficult since the body lying face-up was his own. Dr. McCoy ran his tricorder over the body for the fourth time. "Cause of death?" He managed to ask when his throat didn't feel tight.

The doctor looked over his tricorder readings again. He need not say the obvious, but they knew that having someone say it would be better than keeping what they both knew quiet. "It's all the conditions of a fight. The bruising and abrasions suggest he put up one hell of one, too, but…" McCoy trialed off, looking again at the younger Vulcan. "There's no doubt that he was murdered. His brain took such a beating that I'm one-hundred percent certain it was a Vulcan. And from his track record, I'm going to say it was probably an old, childhood enemy."

"Logical." Elder Spock told him silently, barely nodding his head.

The scene was pitiful. Elder Spock had witnessed his own death and dreamt of it several times after, but never did he think that in an alternate universe his counterpart would perish so easily. The lifeless, cold Vulcan on the desert sands might have appeared serene, like he was sleeping and might wake up any moment, but the old Vulcan could not deny what his brain knew as logical.

Spock was dead.

Bones moved away from the corpse, standing beside him like a lifeline to his sanity. "We never should have come here." He breathed, anguish and regret filling him. Spock knew it would only be a few more seconds before the all-too-familiar emotional explosion. "_Damnit!_ We _never_ should have come here!" The doctor kicked the sand causing a few clouds to land on the body. He recoiled and cursed at himself as he wiped away the dust from his friend's very pale face. "T'Pau warned us not to come." Bones continued, standing when he was sure the deceased Spock had nothing left on his features. "She told us not to and yet, here we are! Here we _fucking_ are!" Brown eyes peered back into his own. "_Damn_ Jim for leaving us here like this!"

"It was of necessity that Captain Kirk respond to the call to transport Captain Damarcus to the colony." The doctor flipped around, trying not to look at him as he continued to boil.

"Some goddamn Vulcan _murdered_ Spock! You never should have convinced those bastards to let us dock here! Then, we would all be okay and Spock wouldn't be _dead!_" Elder Spock took an instinctive step back, it was more from habit than from fear, from his own Dr. McCoy years ago who would constantly blame himself for the loss of a life. Though they had no knowing that his younger self was being provoked, and so much that it could lead to his death, not even Elder Spock could deny his own deep feelings that this was somehow his fault. That he should have known. The boy had been _him,_ after all!

Silence passed between them for some time. Spock knew they couldn't remain out here much longer lest Dr. McCoy wished to join his counterpart, but before he could give suggestions on how to carry the deceased back with them on the hour walk to the colony, the doctor spoke.

"What do we do?" He asked particularly no one.

It was hard to take his old eyes from the body, but control won out over his grief and allowed him to look to the doctor. "Crime is rare with Vulcans. The chances are less than two point six-three-one percent that we would be able to locate the accused and bring him to justice." It was a terribly saddening statistic.

"That's not what I meant." Bones corrected, his eyes still locked with the body. "I mean, what are we going to tell Jim?" Elder Spock's heart trembled at his side. This was something he had yet to think about, and it hit him like a gust of cold air. What _were_ they going to tell Jim?

Bones gave a grim laugh. "It's cruel, you know. For the past two years I've seen fights, ego punching, hell—I've even seen them slap each other like bitches, but if there was one thing that was constant between them, it was the fact that Jim and Spock were brothers. They stood by each other's side, _always._" Silence. "Jim's bound to take this _hard_."

It was inevitable. Closing his eyes to blink away the small pool of emotion, he knew that what the young doctor was saying was true. From his own past, Spock could picture exactly how it would unfold. Dr. McCoy would beam back aboard the ship, the Captain would wear that smile he always smiled when he returned from being away, then he would look around for Spock. When he couldn't locate him, he'd ask Mr. Scott if there were troubles with the transporter, and when he received clear, he would call the planet only to be told that his Spock was no more. Denial would shake the captain's structure, and then sadness. Terrible, _terrible_ sadness.

Elder Spock remembered the day he died. The glass was warm, sticky even, as he gave his final salute to his captain (who was then an admiral). Even through the thick surface, Spock could feel the tidal waves of sorrow and self-destruction his captain was brewing as each breath escaped him. As his life slowly dwindled, he only had enough energy to save his _katra_, so his shields fell instantly at the energy consumption to allow the dying Vulcan to feel everything Jim felt. And what he felt…

No.

He could not—_would not_—allow this James Kirk to feel that. If this timeline stood true to its origin, then the Jim Kirk of this reality was supposed to see him die saving hundreds of lives, not in the middle of a colony desert with no witnesses to document him. His counterpart began to turn a faint brownish colour as death overtook completely. Thinking, his heart stretching more from his Human side, Spock decided there was only one way to prevent the young captain from experiencing the grief and despair of loosing his first officer, his friend, his brother.

"Dr. McCoy," he started with an evenness he never knew himself to have. Spock waited until the doctor looked at him directly. "I have a suggestion, but I must ask that you listen to it in full before you make any judgments. I will warn you now that this idea stems from my influence of my own captain when I was much younger." _So prepare yourself for something really crazy,_ Spock thought as Bones nodded lightly, accepting the terms.

He steeled himself, this would not be easy to say. This was not his Dr. McCoy and persuasion might not work as well on him as it might have on his own, still, he wasn't presented with many other options. Logically, he continued. "Vulcans have what is known as a _katra._ To Humans, this might be what you would call a 'soul'. My suggestion is that we repair and clean my younger counterpart's body and place my _katra_ into him. This will ultimately destroy my own body, however, I do believe that Captain Kirk would be able to handle my death far easier than he would his own Spock." Bones' face dropped all at once. It was to be expected.

"Are you _fucking_ with me?" He demanded. "How the _hell_ will that solve our problem? You prancing around as your old self again, living in someone else's body and living their life for them? I've heard of living vicariously through others, but this takes the saying to a whole new damn level!"

"Doctor, I understand your opposition to such a suggestion—"

"_Opposition?_ You're asking me to allow you to take over Spock's life for him!" Spock ignored the interruption.

"—Nevertheless, my captain and I were very close, much like your own and I surmise that upon hearing of my counterpart's death, your captain will do exactly the same as mine. He will spiral into a fit of depression and blame himself, loosing his command in the process." He paused when the doctor's eyes turned away from him, pain obvious in his limbs. Spock knew he was asking for a lot. "Leonard, Jim is your best friend. What do you think he will do if he finds my younger self has passed after he left to tend to a 'milk run', as he put it?" Dr. McCoy didn't look at him, only stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, then finally settling his eyes back on to the Vulcan body in the sand. There was so much strain in his tired face.

"But, you're not Spock."

"I _am_ Spock."

"You're not _his_ Spock."

"He is not _my_ captain, nevertheless, I am Spock enough to know that my captain—no matter what universe—will always want me by his side." Spock wasn't sure what McCoy was thinking as he stood there for many long moments. Then he watched Bones give a sigh and shake his head slowly.

"It will never be the same. He's not your Jim and you're not his Spock. It won't work, good intentions or not. I'm sorry, but I just can't allow it." He turned, going into the direction of the colony, apparently not having the will to carry the younger Vulcan on his own and most likely going to get a car to come and do the work for him. His heart was always fragile, Spock knew, but little did this McCoy know that Spock had had many years to also learn that his own Vulcan heart was also fragile.

If there was one thing Spock regretted more than having Nero rip him from his reality, it was that he had never gotten the chance to tell Jim just how much he loved him. It took years to understand it, but there was no doubt in his body that Spock loved Jim. And this time was no different. He could not allow this captain, though not really his own, to go through the pain of loosing someone so close. Once had been enough for Spock, he did not wish to see it again. Mustering up all his Vulcan strength, Spock decided to heed the advice he had given his younger self. He would do what _felt_ right.

"I loved him." Spock said quickly, like the words burned him. Bones had already walked a good six yards but stopped suddenly. The elder ventured further now knowing he had the young doctor's interest. "I did, Leonard. I loved Jim. Not even Vulcans are beyond the emotion of love. Though it is regrettable that my younger self has passed, this could be my only opportunity to start over where Nero had left me off. I could finally discover for myself if Jim loved me back. I have lived for over a century and never had the strength to ask him, and when I could, it was too late. Will you allow an old fool this chance?" Dr. McCoy had turned back, but still refused to look at him. Spock walked closer, moving steadily to close the distance between them.

"Your Spock may be gone," he continued with a sense of hush, "but _this_ Spock still remains. I may not seem much to you, but I do not wish to destroy this delicate bond. I want to do all I can for him, just as he would and has done for me." Silence. "And _you_. Please, Leonard, you must understand."

When nothing further was said, Spock removed himself and went back to his younger self's body, bending down to brush away some of the sand that had blown into his brows. He knew he was asking for more than the doctor was willing to give, but if there was one thing his captain had taught him, it was to try. He had tried.

Bones broke his concentration. "I'll do it." He said in nearly a whisper. "I'll do it. I'll clean him up and fix what I can and let you take him over. I don't… I don't think I could stand to deliver this news any more than you would." His voice trembled, his hands in opposite reaction with a steadiness only a doctor could fathom. Standing upright, Spock allowed himself a private quirk of his lips, a small smile for only the doctor, but it wasn't for Leonard McCoy's understanding—it was for the thought that he would get a second chance to be with Jim again.

How unVulcan, to be so selfish.

…

The younger Spock's body lay completely naked on Elder Spock's bed. Neither he nor Dr. McCoy had informed the small landing party or the Vulcan colonists of what had happened. The only information given was from Elder Spock (known to everyone besides a select few as 'Selek'), he told them that Spock was injured and he and Dr. McCoy were going to attempt an ancient Vulcan ritual to save his life. The Humans accepted the excuse, however, some Vulcans appeared suspicious as they were telepaths and probably wondered why they sensed no activity from the young half-breed. If questioned, Spock told himself that he would remind them that Spock was half-Human, so his telepathic abilities were too weak to sense under such circumstances.

It took close to an hour, but together as doctor and partial Vulcan healer, they repaired younger Spock's body and prevented the coming rigor mortis. While cleaning him, Bones mumbled to himself frequently, just as Spock remembered him to do in his time, and a few times stopped the trembling doctor to remind him that they were trying to do the best logical choice. Whether the words actually got to him or not, Spock would not know as Bones threw away his emotional face and went into his doctor mode to finish conducting the cleansing.

Though he had offered words of assurance to Bones, Spock found himself having the same battle within his own mind, because as they came closer to finishing, for a brief moment Elder Spock felt a pang of uncertainty. He nearly copped out entirely ten minutes later, not wanting to deceive the Jim Kirk he never knew, but he too, knew this was for the best. Fear had a way of making even the most illogical plans logical.

"He's ready." The doctor finally said when he removed the tricorder. "Are you?" He asked the elder Vulcan. Spock nodded silently and now knew this was the moment of truth. Now or never.

Dr. McCoy moved to make room, the elder placing his fingers on his younger self's absent meld points. He hesitated briefly, looked to Dr. McCoy, then threw caution to the wind as he initiated the mind meld.

At first, it was like he had landed in an empty void, then slowly he began to swirl his _katra_ into the body. It was painful, but Spock ignored it as wave after wave of his essence poured into the young vessel. There had been no resistance, no shouting, and this saddened the Vulcan. Once again reminding him that he was not just inhabiting a body of a younger him, but the body of a Vulcan he hardly knew. Sure, they were the same person, just as one might say a twin is to their double, but they were still different. Was it too late to pull out? To go back and change his mind?

"Spock!" He heard lightly muffled in his ears. "Spock!" The voice was in panic and it took a few seconds for him to recognize it as Leonard McCoy's. "Talk to me!" Spock opened his eyes to see his dark ceiling. Blinking awake, he noted that he was no longer hovering over the body of his younger form and he was a tad bit chilled. It took more strength than he thought to sit up, and when the task was completed, he peered around to see Dr. McCoy on the floor, resting a greyed Vulcan's head in his lap.

"Spock! Are you okay?" McCoy asked the resting body.

"I am fine, Doctor." Spock told him smoothly, catching the poor man off guard with a start. "The transfer was a success." Bones stared at him before he finally rested the older Vulcan's body to the floor. He eyes still flit between them, like he was having a hard time comprehending the situation. Spock stood up, as if to tell the doctor that what had happened was real. In doctor mode again, McCoy wasted no time as he pulled out his tricorder and ran it over his newly animated flesh.

"How are your joints?" Bones asked, purely sounding like he was detaching himself emotionally. The Vulcan lifted his arms and flexed.

"Stiff, but nothing a few minutes of reanimation will not cure."

"Any pain?"

"Tolerable."

"Headache?"

"Minor."

"Internal organs?"

"My heart appears to be palpitating, but with sufficient control established in ten point six minutes, it should return to normal." Bones removed the device and folded his arms like he was staring at a ghost and trying to believe it.

"Well, you're healthy, for being a _dead guy_." He then cocked his head to one side and shifted to point at Spock's old body. "But, what are we going to do with _that?_"

Spock readied himself and repeated the excuse he would tell all inquiring others. "Selek used an ancient transfer ritual to preserve my life, in the process, he regrettably died, choosing to save my life over his."

"Pretty convincing." Bones snorted.

"It will have to do." The doctor looked even more self-conscious now than he had before.

"It still doesn't feel right, doing this." Spock reached out and placed a warm hand on his shoulder, Bones recoiled from the touch, but then eased. Dr. McCoy's cooperation with this was a key element, if he was having second thoughts…

"Leonard, should you find yourself incapable of holding this information, please let me know."

"Yeah, yeah." He shrugged off, batting his hand away. "Look, I'm not doing this for you. Your green-blooded ass was the least of my worries." He spat, taking Spock's suggestion for weakness, "This is for Jim. I can keep a secret if it means he'll be happy. I care about him too much to watch him crumble." Spock offered a nod.

"Logical."

"No," Bones argued with a shake of his head, "it's not 'logical'… It's _'love_'."

The newly aged Spock inclined his head, looked down at his young, naked shame, then sighed inwardly. However disgruntled, Bones was right. "Indeed."

…

There were so few colonist that when word got out that Selek (Elder Spock) had died while saving Spock's life, it only took a few hours to reach the communications department and send a message to the _Enterprise_ to alert them of the situation. Jim would receive the message in less than twenty-four hours, if Spock calculated the distance correctly. In this time, Spock had to recuperate with his familiar and yet foreign body, learn important information from Dr. McCoy on his status within the _Enterprise,_ and plan his funeral. All things he never thought he'd have to do for himself.

His father and grandmother expressed their gratitude for his survival and began a small interrogation in the colony to find the accuser who had attacked him, however, they were deeply affected that Elder Spock had met his demise in a selfless act. They appeared sincere, but after the plans for a funeral the following day had been set up, T'Pau grasped Spock's arm and held him tightly until Sarek had excused himself from her home.

Spock remained passive, letting her hold him in her intimate fashion until she was certain Sarek would not hear them. He didn't have to be a telepath to know why she held him.

"Thee have betrayed thy people." She said in Vulcan. Spock waited for her to release him until he would speak. He kept his features expressionless, like stone, staring ahead into her simple home. She seemed to understand him, letting go of his arm and then smacking him across his cheek so hard that he fell to the floor.

"Lady T'Pau," he started from the dusty floor, his light coloured robe dirtying.

"Do not speak." She barked in a harsh, even tone. "Son of Sarek, thee have committed the ultimate crime against Vulcans. To place one's _katra_ in the vessel of another who has passed—that is against our culture. Surak forbid it and so does thy family. Had thee brought his body to the healers, we would have—"

"Your healers are not strong enough, will _not_ be for another century." Spock dared to interrupt, knowing what he was doing was unheard of and could earn him a beating. "Spock would have died, his _katra_ lost forever. By melding mine into his body—" she slapped him again, putting him back on to the floor. He continued, his weakened body not use to functioning optimally yet, "—by melding mine into his body, there is still a chance that I can restore my younger counterpart's _katra_ with my own. Making us one." She eyed him heavily. Spock dare not move from the floor, instead shifting himself into a groveling position.

"T'Pau, where I come from, you last saw me in person when I returned to Vulcan for my Time. With me, I brought Captain James Kirk. Even then, you did not understand why I brought outworlders into our tradition, why this Human meant to me as the embrace of Surak to you. I ask that you understand that I took this course of action for the same reasons I will bring Captain Kirk to you again. He is my friend,"

"No." She said.

"my brother,"

"_No._" she repeated.

"my lover—" he didn't have time to finish as her hand pressed his head to the floor in a low bow of disgrace and dishonour. His forehead and hair rubbed into the dusty floors.

"How _dare_ thee commit such acts of dishonour and then to tell me thee hath found the lost, sacred bond of _t'hy'la!_ Thee bring thyself and thy people shame! It is only because of our loss that only _I_ am strong enough to know whom thou really are. Thee hath _murdered_ Spock! Thee are not Vulcan and thou are no grandson of mine!" Spock fought against her strength. In a typical setting, she would have been weak in comparison, but his current state made him that of Human might, it took all his energy to free himself from her grip and roll away.

He stood, not bothering to dust his robe or fix his disheveled hair. "Thou were not welcome on Vulcan." She told him, no signs of irritation in her, "and thee is not welcome on New Vulcan, Spock of a different Time. When Captain Kirk returns, thou are to leave with his ship and never return—or face the consequences for thy actions." Spock knew T'Pau and understood that though he disgraced her, she still cared for him as her grandson. If she hadn't, she would have ordered him put to death right then. It was something he had overlooked when he chanced his Human-like idea. The Vulcan people had been through a loss of great proportions, so he assumed that no one would be able to telepathically spot the difference in _katra_. However, he had underestimated T'Pau. No matter his reasoning, by the law of his people, he _had_ committed the ultimate crime.

"I thank you, Lady T'Pau." He said with a bow, acknowledging that she would keep his secret as long as he remained exiled.

"Do not give gratitude to me, Spock. Thee should give gratitude to thy younger counterpart, for if it were not for his death, thee would still be an old Vulcan and forever parted from thy _t'hy'la_." Spock nodded silently. "We shall mourn tomorrow at dusk. They shall mourn for _thee,_ whilst thou and I shall mourn for _Spock_." A grim foretelling.

Spock needed nothing further. With a deep bow, he excused himself from her chambers and back towards his home. It was good that he had little to nothing here on New Vulcan. Because as soon as Captain Kirk arrived, who still had the chance of not wanting to be his lover, he would be forever exiled from his people. As was before his success as a Starfleet officer, Spock was alone.

And so began the bitter second chance.

…


	2. Chapter 2

Second Chances

Chapter Two

…

Captain James Kirk would arrive at dock in one hour. The funeral ceremony for 'Selek' would begin in two. The day had been long, twenty-five point one minutes longer than the days on previous Vulcan, and somehow those extra minutes only extended Spock's ambiguity. He dare not show it, he was Vulcan, he had learned how to cope with his emotions for years, though with age, they had become softer and forgiven by his people since becoming an elder. But these Vulcans did not know him now as Selek, but as Spock, the young half-breed who nearly killed his captain two year previous and had worked up a strict standard of his behaviours. To let his emotions show even as subtle as they were in his elder form, would be considered disgraceful since his younger counterpart had not been welcome beyond his own father and of course, _himself_.

It wasn't to say that the Vulcans were not grateful for Spock saving their elders to preserve their history and culture, but that Vulcans were (widely) considered almost racist in their own ways. Spock may have saved their culture, but he was still half-Human, so in their logical thoughts, they honestly believed that had he been full Vulcan, he could have saved more lives without so much emotion devoted to a single mother. Spock, with his experience, knew these thoughts were wrong, but having enemies among his own people and his father still considered a traitor for marrying a Human female, it was hard to squash the belief. Vulcans, though considered superior in most advancements, were also advanced in their stubbornness. And with this, Spock was no fool. He, too, could be just as stubborn and would prove it with his plan to resume his counterpart's life.

"You don't have to get everything right on the first try," Bones told him as Spock dressed into the appropriate attire for his funeral. He dressed in black robes with his family crest on the sleeves, and underneath it he had tucked the only object he had brought back from his time worth anything to him—his IDIC pendant.

"I am aware of this, Doctor." Spock replied.

"I'll tell Jim that you're suffering from the after effects of the treatment and to expect some memory loss. That it'll come back in time."

Spock looked at himself in the full-length mirror hanging on his wall. "Logical." Then from behind him came Dr. McCoy who took his shoulders and spun him around. Spock had to admit to himself that he was still uneasy about his body being so weak that a mere Human could turn him with such force, however, he ignored it and knew given time his strength would return.

"You just keep in mind that _this_ Jim isn't exactly a carbon copy of yours. If he denies you in any way, I expect you to drop this like it's hot and tell Jim the truth."

"You have made this point to me eleven times, Dr. McCoy, and I can assure you that I will not walk where my weight can not be sustained. Should the captain deny me, I will—you have my word as a Vulcan—admit my deceit. Nevertheless, I do not anticipate this outcome as your James Kirk has proven to have ninety-nine point nine-seven percent likeness to my own."

Bones weakly smiled. "Only ninety-nine point nine-seven?" Spock turned back to look at himself in the mirror and straighten his robes where McCoy had grasped him.

"The other point zero-three percent is the fact that your captain has blue eyes while mine had hazel."

Bones grumbled. "I'm sure there's more differences than that." Spock finished and turned back to the doctor who had crossed his arms in a huff.

"Indeed, Doctor. I have reason to believe that there will be more, but nothing that will stray far from the Jim Kirk I fell in love with."

"At least, you _hope_."

"That is insulting, Dr. McCoy. Vulcans do not hope." He started for the door, he was to meet his captain at the dock in ten minutes. McCoy stopped him briefly.

"Just like they don't _love_?" His non-wrinkled hand landed softly on the doorframe. He had no idea why he had grasped it; he wasn't feeling off balanced, but the need presented itself. He peered over his shoulder to the doctor.

Ignoring the fact that he had made a Vulcan stop dead in his tracks, Bones pushed past him and muttered something about they're going to be late. A foreshadowing entered Spock's mind, but he quickly discarded it. Instead, he removed his hand and led himself down the corridors of his home.

…

With how long it took the _Enterprise_ to set orbit and ready themselves for transport, by the time Captain Kirk would beam down it would be close to the time for Selek's funeral ceremony. Spock walked behind Sarek, T'Pau, and three other Vulcan healers he had known since he was a child, though he was uncertain if the memories he had would be the same as his younger counterpart. They walked in a trance-like state, hands steepled in front of them as they commenced a gracious glide towards the dock. McCoy was also with them, but he stood off to the side like the rest of the landing party, clothed in their dress uniforms.

Five minutes later, after they had reached the dock and had been given the clear, atoms began to materialize before them. It was only two people. One, Spock knew, would be Jim Kirk, and the other, he knew, would be Captain Damarcus, the captain who would be taking Jim's place in observing and reporting on the New Vulcan Colony proceedings.

When their atoms were arranged in familiar pieces, Spock used his best control of the young body to prevent himself from looking Jim in his eyes and showing how much he missed him. He ended up not having to as Jim approached them first, pushed through the crowd of Vulcans to reach Spock, however, T'Pau stuck out her arm to stop him just before they could greet.

"Thou may see thy friend after the ceremony. Come, Captain Kirk; Captain Damarcus; stand beside the others and follow us to the appointed place of Selek of Vulcan's burial ground." Spock looked up and flashed the captain his sincerest apologies for tradition, and though Jim looked like he wanted to disregard it, he knew better than to step on Vulcan toes. Just as the Jim Kirk before him followed the tradition during his Time, this Jim Kirk heeded the warning and followed T'Pau's direct orders. He got in line with the doctor and they began whispering among themselves as they were led with the small party towards the burial grounds. They were just barely within range for Spock to hear them.

"And _why_ can't I see Spock right now?" Jim asked, frustrated.

"Vulcan ritual. You know how they are." Bones responded.

"Silence." T'Pau ordered from her place in front. The rest of the walk was silent, save for a few bells ringing in the hands of the few Vulcan servants who had helped Spock with his research on New Vulcan. Traditionally, bells were heard during _Pon Farr_ in abundance to signify the growing ring of life, while during a funeral, only a few bells were heard to signify the fading of life into death. Earth had a similar tradition in the northern countries where a bell would be tolled twelve times to announce the passing of a soul into death. It always fascinated Spock the significance of such customs between species, however annoying said traditions might be.

Had the funeral ceremony been for his younger counterpart and not himself, Spock was sure that the ceremony would have been more emotional than it was. Vulcans may bottle up their emotions and store them away, but no species was beyond grief. Mourning was something Vulcans did not condone nor look down upon. Loosing a life was just as serious to them as keeping their emotions in check. But as it was, since no one really knew Selek, where he came from, or the family he descended from, the ceremony was silent and stern more than saddening. He had been a great contribution to the New Vulcan Colony efforts, had been seen as the wisest Vulcan around, but having no family or recorded history, he had not made many friends or brought anyone close enough for his death to mean anything. To the Vulcans, this was simply viewed as a fact of life, but then on the Human side, only one seemed to take the ceremony for all its emotional worth.

James Kirk.

Dressed in his finest uniform, Jim stood beside Dr. McCoy stiffly. Spock walked around the burial grounds with his family and servants in a dance that probably his own father didn't even know he knew. His eyes drifted only a few times from his ritualistic movements to observe that Jim was staring at the hand-crafted casket made just for Elder Spock the night before. Years had taught Spock that Jim was holding back his tears and would instead drain his sorrow in someone's alcohol or bed much later that evening. It brought him small satisfaction to know that his life (though elderly and abrupt) had in some way affected Captain Kirk, but another part of him came to note that Jim didn't know whom he was really mourning for.

The thought made him shudder and nearly miss a ritual gesture.

When the small dance came to its end, they had circled around the burial tomb and reached a stopping point just before the opening into the surface. T'Pau, now the eldest of the Vulcans at the new colony, took her place at the head of the tomb and recited the words of death in high Vulcan. She only spoke for two minutes before she beckoned Spock to her. Taking small breaths, Spock moved from his place beside his father and knelt at T'Pau's feet just behind the burial.

"Have thee any words for the departed?" Spock bowed his head deeply.

"I regret the circumstances which have led us to this burial." Traditionally, T'Pau should not have responded to his admittance of emotion, but since Spock had broken rules, T'Pau most likely found it fitting to reply.

"So do I." With a wave of her hand, Spock bowed his head and watched as four servants took the casket and gently brought it to rest in the burial.

"The body may be gone, but let thy soul remain." T'Pau chanted, "Selek of Vulcan, may thy soul live long and prosper." Suddenly, completely out of ritual, T'Pau turned towards Spock as the casket dropped silently and placed her fingers harshly at the meld points of Spock's face. No one gasped, but eyes went wide at her out of ritual display. Spock could not join them as his grandmother forced a meld upon his mind and in his weakened state, the newly younged Vulcan could not deny her entrance.

"_I grieve for Spock."_ She said into his mind, echoing like she was in a vast mountain range. _"Thee shall grieve for Spock."_ He couldn't stop her, her body stronger than his at the moment. His mind felt the push and pull of his person, like she was ripping him piece by piece. Spock had not seen this done before, in all his years had not witnessed such an act for this ceremony, but T'Pau was no fool. She may have agreed to keep his secret, but her price for her silence was higher than exile.

Her fingers left his face so quickly that Spock fell to the ground like they were his only support. He was aware of all the eyes around them staring, but Spock could not respond quickly. It took him many moments to gather himself, pull himself up from the ground, and when the task was accomplished, Spock felt wetness on his face.

He touched his cheek, the contents of the liquid resembling that of tears, and then… emotions took him over in full force. Spock began to cry. It was uncontrollable, the tears flowing from his face and the emotions spilling over like hot tea. His whimpers and choked sobs filling the silence and ringing among the bells. It took many moments to realize what she had done, but after he became the centre of attention, the burial now being filled while he cry, his mind knew that these emotions were that of T'Pau herself. She had transferred her grief directly to him, her disappointment, her anger, her emotions and did so to shame Spock in front of his people.

He looked to her, his eyes asking why in their own pitiful way. She looked down on him with her dark glare. "Thy life hath become precious, S'chn T'gai Spock. Just as he before thee struggled, now thee shall start again. Respect the life thou now holds." To the others, Spock knew that they would take her words as sentimental, that she was telling Spock to be thankful that Selek had saved his life and this to be the price, but to Spock, he knew better. She was telling him that now he was living the life of another, he would sacrifice his pride as a Vulcan to those around him. Not giving exile a choice anymore, now he would be forced to exile himself to retain his pride. T'Pau made this the price for her keeping his secret and for him to resume the life of his counterpart. Would it be worth it?

Spock tumbled over in his fit of uncontrolled emotion. He remembered this meld method, knowing that the effects would only last for a few more minutes, but seconds were all that were needed to publicly disgrace himself.

No one stopped him as he cried on the sand. For a moment, he looked up and saw that two Vulcans were holding back Jim and the landing party from assisting him. Jim looked angry, and he was shouting, Spock was sure, but they were denied until T'Pau concluded the ceremony. His elder body now encased and forever written as their first new home's death, his grandmother ordered the ceremony complete. The bells stopped, the people began to leave to grieve in their own way or not at all, but most importantly, Jim was allowed to rush to his side.

"Spock!" he called, throwing himself to the ground and putting arms around him to help him up. He was trembling, shaky with emotions he could not control. Spock grasped Jim back in return, holding himself steady. "Are you okay?" Jim asked, his tone full of worry. The Vulcan could only nod through his tears.

"What did she do to you?" He demanded, throwing an evil glare in the direction Spock assumed was of T'Pau. Bones answered for him.

Spock didn't know when the doctor had ran the tricorder over him, but he was reading it back now. "It appears she numbed the part of the Vulcan brain that allows them to control their emotions telepathically. Looks temporary, but why would she do that? Did she want us to know Vulcans have emotions?" Spock shook his head.

"It is the price… for my life." Bones and Spock switched a knowing look. Jim interpreted it wrong.

"Elder Spock saves your life and she repays him by shaming you in front of your family?" Jim snorted and teetered on the edge with anger. "What was she thinking?" In the bout of anger, the captain and doctor had managed to bring Spock to his feet. Having his telepath abilities blocked in that moment were welcomed, because all the touching would have been too much had he been functional. Once standing, Jim let him go.

"Bones, make sure Spock is okay, I'm going to go give T'Pau a piece of my mind." He left no time for approval as he started off for the elderly woman. Spock tried to stop him, tell him that his outburst would be seen as disrespectful, but his body was too weak and upon trying to move, he fell directly into McCoy's arms. The doctor held him, his grip tightening when more tears stung to the surface of his face.

"Regretting your decision yet?" He asked Spock as the Vulcan cried into his shoulder.

"I am…_Vulcan_." He sobbed incoherently, ashamed that his own kin had muted his abilities to control himself. He felt the doctor stroke his back and rock him as though he were a child, letting him cry.

"Yeah, of course you are."

…

Spock sat silently on the floor of his bedroom. Dr. McCoy had been gracious enough to help him there and hide him from the judgmental eyes of his people. Though Spock protested, he wished to go after Jim before he made a mistake, nevertheless Bones assured him that he was not fit to go anywhere but to his room to rest, and that he would handle the captain. In the fit of the emotional tides, Spock had no choice but to deem the doctor logical and allow assistance to his home.

The floor was dressed with a small rug where he sat in meditation. The effects of T'Pau's transfer were beginning to fade and slowly his controls were returning. Years had taught him the best methods of obtaining complete emotional detachment, but he could not help the immense feeling of grief wrapped around his body. Suddenly, he found himself thankful for T'Pau's interruption of his control.

During his transfer from 'Elder Spock' back to 'Younger Spock', he had been too prideful to allow himself to grieve for the loss that the funeral had really been for. His younger self was gone, bits of his _katra_ barely noticeable in the vessel he now adorned. He had meant what he said to his grandmother, that melding together as one was possible, but at this moment, not attainable. Spock had been passed for too long and the small bits left behind of his essence not enough to bring forth to the present. Or, if it was, Spock was just not _old_ enough to know how to embrace it. Only time would tell if he would be capable, not to mention if younger Spock had even known how to store his _katra_ somewhere else as he had done for his own death.

Still, it didn't take away from the fact that T'Pau had kept her foretelling. She and he did mourn and for the Spock that no one knew had passed. It still didn't make the emotions any more tolerable. Being half-Human, the emotions were far more intense than he would have been able to handle had he been full Vulcan or possibly fifty years older. It was a sad time, and though it was unVulcan to indulge, Spock allowed himself to cry without the assistance of T'Pau's sudden mind meld.

Spock, his younger self, at least deserved this.

As he continued to meditate with silent tears, he vaguely heard his door open to allow entrance for an intruder. The figure sat down across from him, obviously not dissuaded by his attempts to heal, so Spock opened his eyes to put a name to his uninvited guest.

"Father," he said almost breathlessly, but with his even tone it sounded only dream-like and monotone. Many moments of silence passed, causing Spock to take a moment to retrieve himself back from his meditative state and study the face of his father. It was unlike him not to greet in return or to ask forgiveness for interrupting a meditation at such a weak time, but those eyes that stared back at him hollowly shown no signs of distress, or that his father was even apologetic for the interruption. It took only ten more seconds for him to realize why his father was here.

Sarek _knew_.

Spock ventured to speak first. "You are still my father." He said in reassurance. Sarek offered a small nod in reply.

"By blood, I am you father," he admitted with a rough voice, like it was hard for him to speak. "But, by love, you are not my son." The words hit him harder than he thought they would; Spock did not show this.

He lowered his head, "I could not garner your love in my own universe, Father. I do not expect you to give it to me here." Sarek remained silent, the ache of his heart apparent with the light bond a father and son shared even through different universes.

"You are in error. I _do_ love you, Spock." The response made the now younger Vulcan look up, perhaps startled. "I will always love you and what you become, however, you have already lived your life, Ambassador. My son... had not." Spock looked away again.

"You are ashamed of me."

"I will never be ashamed of my son; I am ashamed that this evening I mourned for the incorrect Spock." He paused, judging Spock's reaction with the methodical patience of a true scientist. "I had lost my wife, and now I have lost the only part of her I had left. After today, I have nothing. Not even the homeworld I was raised on." Spock bowed respectfully since he thought that saying 'I grieve with thee' to be too inappropriate. Sarek noticeably sighed and stood from the floor, his robes falling to his feet. Spock stood to meet him, a small bout of shame colouring his cheeks. He had not anticipated this outcome when he thought of the _katra_ transfer.

"I only request," Sarek added softly, "that you thank my son each day for his gift of life and youth. It should only serve logical that one of us remain allowed to watch him grow." Sarek knew of the exile, Spock told himself. He watched as his father then made light steps towards his door. He expected to hear it open and close harshly, but none ever came, only words.

"Live long and prosper, Spock. This I know, first hand, you will accomplish. If not the only accomplishment I will ever know." The door opened, then closed. With it, his father. Gone forever, but not through death as in his own universe, but through exile.

When he had decided on this plan, it had been a logical method to keep Captain Kirk in his position of command and to live to the fullest since this Jim Kirk appeared to be much more fragile than his own. But now, it seemed that all the illogical leaps he had considered to make this plan a reality, were now surfacing and making him reconsider his choice. _Did I make the most logical decision?_ He dare not answer himself out of the great chance that his doubting hypothesis would be correct, but then, he wasn't given much time to think on it as his door once again opened and another intruder entered.

After his father had left, Spock had not sat back down, so to view his intruder he needed only to turn his head. When he did, his sights were full of a sweaty, dirty, and slightly bruised Jim Kirk.

"Captain," Spock began and walked towards him, his strength returning at the thought that the captain would somehow need him. Jim put his hand up to stop him as he wobbled closer.

"I," he started and hesitated, "I don't think your grandmother likes me very much." He told Spock with slight sarcasm and slight acceptance.

"Lady T'Pau did this to you?" It wasn't beyond her to discipline a Vulcan for stepping out of line, but it certainly was not like her to bring discipline to an outworlder, unless the outworlder did something exceptionally offensive. He then remembered that he was talking with James T. Kirk and suddenly, it didn't seem beyond him to fathom such an idea.

There were no chairs in his room, so Spock offered the edge of his bed instead, and they both sat side by side, Jim giving little to no resistance at such an intimate setting.

"She's a bitch, but I think you know that already." Jim said with reluctance and with edged harshness. "I told her that I wanted to know why she publicly humiliated you, why she would do this to one of her own after Spock went out of his way to save your life. She called me a fool, with not only the word but with her backhand too." He unconsciously rubbed his cheek where a small mark was. Spock felt responsible. "I didn't stay down, though. I got back up, not even caring that I probably just broke not only a bunch of regulations, but I down-right insulted her. I asked why again and she didn't even bother to _grace_ me with her hands again. She instead got her lackeys on me and they roughed me up a little. I have to admit that I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I was pretty pissed off. It was a dick move to do something like that at a funeral. No offense, but it seems to me ever since Nero's bullshit that nearly _all_ Vulcans have been acting more dickish lately."

Spock could not agree, but logic would not allow him to disagree. "It has been very little time since the passing of our homeworld. It is to be expected that some Vulcans are still holding on to the illogic of grudges." Jim only gave an airy, grim chuckle and relaxed back on to his hands, sinking the bed a little with his weight. The room suddenly filled with a thick silence. Spock wanted to say something, but he found he was lost for words. Thankfully, Jim continued.

"Spock, I know this is going to sound illogical, but honestly, when we leave, I don't want to come back here." Spock raised a brow, but Jim wasn't looking at him to notice it. "Frankly, I think this is a bad environment for you. Every time we come here it's always more trouble than we need. Don't get me wrong, helping the colonists is great and benefiting, but the only reason I accepted was because I really wanted to see Older You, but... now that he's gone..." Jim's eyes searched the room, almost longingly, "I just don't see much reason to accept missions here any more." This was more personal than Spock thought the captain would admit to him, and certainly as Elder Spock, Jim had never confided to him these reasons. It was baffling to hear him speak so freely about it, however, since he was going to be exiled anyway, this thought process was not unwelcome. If they stayed away from the colony, then Spock would not need to explain why he couldn't beam down to planet until much farther into the future. He would have plenty of time to ready himself.

"Your silence is only telling me that you're thinking about how illogical I am." Jim smiled weakly and flicked his eyes over. Spock swallowed, he was unsure why.

"You are mistaken. I was thinking that I am gratuitous for your reaction."

"Really?" Jim perked up and bounced a little, like he hadn't expected that answer.

"Yes, Jim." Spock said warmly and evenly.

"And you're not secretly pissed at me that I told off you grandmother?"

Spock allowed himself a simple Human-like shrug. He would later blame his easy-going elder ways for the slip. "Given your penchant for leaping without looking, it comes as no surprise to me that you would find T'Pau worth the energy expended to 'tell her off' as you would say." Jim began to laugh and it was nice to see it. Though he looked beat up and worn out (more likely that the thin atmosphere had something to attribute to that), the smile was uplifting and brought Spock's heart to rest, even if he didn't show it.

"Leave it to you, Spock, to tell me 'thank you' in the most complicated way." Spock raised an interested brow. Jim only stopped briefly before he gave a childish point and continued his banter. "Oh, come on! I know you, and if there's one thing I can see right now it's that you're not at all unhappy with the fact I told her off! You look damn near splitting a grin in Vulcan terms!" Spock inclined his head in acquiesce, though he refused to admit to it verbally. It appeared that two years with his younger self had influenced Jim in some way, and this was good. It brought back so many memories of his own Jim who could read him without even trying. He decided to push it a little further. After all, Spock couldn't forget why he went through all this trouble in the first place.

"That is illogical," said Spock, "But despite your leaps of illogic, I must admit gratitude. Not for the action, mind you, but that you would risk yourself to defend me from my own traditions." Jim moved a bit closer and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. The action shouldn't have done it, but it had been so long since a touch like this had been given that the Vulcan felt his heart race.

"I don't say it often, or really, I _do_ say it often, just not to you, but, Spock... you're my closest friend. I know we didn't start off great, but it's been two long years and a wonderful service. We've grown up, and not just me (though I had a _lot_ of that to do), but you too." Jim had always been shorter than him, but when he looked up to Spock with his startling blue eyes, Spock felt he was looking down at the captain for the first time. "I reacted that way because," he laughed, "well, because honestly, I figured you'd do the same for me. We just 'click' like that." Jim turned away for only a moment, like he was embarrassed to be saying all this, and in the plight to turn away and hide his reddening face, his left hand scratched his nose and then fell towards his legs where he missed and instead placed his palm on top of Spock's.

Jim blushed and removed his hand quickly.

"S-Sorry, about that." He muttered, folding his arms into himself. Spock decided then that this was another chance to voice his intentions. His heart was pounding at his side, his skin feeling the tingling he often felt when Jim had touched him. He didn't have the strength before to tell Jim his small touches made him feel this way, so he reacted now with new abandon.

He reached out and took Jim's hand into his own. It was possible that the captain knew what kind of intimacy this was, but if he did, he didn't voice it aloud. His face was kept turned away, but he couldn't hide the blush that was returning. Spock had to call his name to get him to look at him. And when he did, Spock's heart trembled again and his senses overloaded with all that was this strong, brave Human before him.

Words need not be spoken to give Jim the message that he could touch him anytime. He moved his slender fingers, these new ones that were not as wrinkled and aged as his previous, up Jim's palm, then over his wrist delicately. Pushing the sleeve up, he lightly fingered the smooth skin of his underarm, then took his eyes away to judge Jim's reaction. Oh, how long Spock had wanted to do this!

Jim's pupils were dilated, his breath becoming laboured and trembling. His lips were a soft pink, blooming a deeper colour as his bit his lower lip absently. There was no question that Jim Kirk understood very well what Spock was doing to him. The Vulcan then leaned down and placed an airy, open-mouthed kiss on his sensitive underforearm. Right below the wrist.

"Spock," Jim breathed, as though he were Vulcan and could feel the significance of the action.

"Yes, Jim?" Spock asked, placing another kiss. Nothing was heard for many moments, just their breathing in unison; both sounded thrilled. Then, Jim's fingers reached up and cupped his chin, leading him away from the bent position he had used to kiss his skin. Their eyes were brought together as one, and though the eyes that stared at him were blue, not hazel, Spock knew it was Jim. It was all Jim. It was _his_ Jim.

Spock was uncertain when and how it had happened, his mind cluttered with the sensory overload, but their mouths met. It began softly, gingerly, Jim letting his head fall back in complete submission to the situation. As first officer and clean-up crew to Jim's frequent bouts of sexuality with the alien kind, Spock had always known Jim to be the leader and conquer the women he desired, but now, it was strange that his thoughts on Jim's actions with a male would be proven accurate. Jim wanted to submit, not control. This gave Spock a view into the workings of the captain, wondering if he preferred it this way and he had never known it.

He tested his theory and pushed Jim back on to the pillows of his bed. Jim sank willingly, his breath hot against his skin as he tried to linger the kiss. Spock gave it to him, planting kisses over his lips, then his cheeks, and moved towards his neck. The young captain made the sweetest sounds when he bit and nibbled on his neck and lobes. They were intoxicating! Spock had to hear more!

Their hands began to wander over the other, Jim's palms taking his shoulders in what looked like he wanted to either push him away or bring him closer. Spock went with the latter and laid his body on top of Jim's. His legs parted willingly, wrapping around the Vulcan's waist as he deepened the kiss with his commander. A hard shaft ground against him, making him want to part the dark robe and reveal his own aching hardness. They grinded together, their erections evident and pulsing with the friction.

When he rolled his hips to simulate a pistoning motion, the motion he desperately wanted to try while sheathing his hard and heavy penis into Jim, the captain let out the most erotic moan he had ever heard. Spock replied by taking his mouth again, squeezing Jim's thighs and working his fingers towards his bottom to cup and massage the taut muscle. Jim wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled them closer.

"Spock," Jim moaned while he continued to massage his bottom. "Spock, no, stop." The pleas were weak, like he didn't really want to say them, but were an afterthought. Then they became a little louder. "No. Stop! Spock, stop!" It took every fiber of his being to pull himself away from Jim's nape and remove his hands. He looked down at the captain with question. Jim's face was a bright pink colour, but his eyes were no longer conveying how much he wanted this.

"This," Jim said when he knew Spock wanted a reason, "this is wrong." He whispered. "This is _so_ wrong." Spock could only assume what he was talking about.

"You do not approve that we are both male?" Jim looked startled, then shook his head.

"No! It's not that at all! It's just..." he trailed off, uncertain what to say. "Spock," he looked up at him, removing his legs from the Vulcan's waist, "what about Uhura?" The question threw Spock for a loop, though his stoic mannerisms did not tell it. Why would Jim ask such a question?

"I do not understand." Jim tried to sit up, making Spock remove himself completely so that they were once again sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think Uhura would be cool with a threeway, especially if the third person is me, but you guys have been together for what? Three years, now? Four? I lost count... It just feels wrong to come in and trample all over that."

"Jim, that is illogi—" Spock stopped himself at the realization. The Vulcan suddenly found himself thinking back on all the times he and his counterpart had spoken. When Spock tried to push his younger self towards Jim, he had always appeared uninterested, or uncomfortable that he would suggest it. The pieces fell together like a puzzle. Leave it to _himself_ not to tell _himself_ that he was dating a subordinate.

Jim was quick to recover, even if Spock wasn't. "Oh god." His voice was full of dread. "Oh god, Spock, you don't remember, do you?" Spock looked at him questioningly. "Oh, shit. Bones told me you'd have some memory loss but I didn't think it'd be _that_ much!"

"Jim, you are babbling."

"No, no!" Jim grasped his shoulders and shook him just a bit. "I mean, I think it's wonderful that you like me back and in more ways than one, but I couldn't live with myself if you only sought after me because you forgot you were madly in love with Uhura!" Spock furrowed his brow.

"Jim, I have not ever been 'madly in love' with Lt. Uhura." Jim pouted.

"Oh man, she isn't going to take this easy." The captain mumbled while shaking his head. Then he stood and brushed himself off like he was trying to remove the scent of Spock from his very clothes. He looked as though he was about to leave, when Spock grasped his wrist to deter him.

"Jim."

"Spock," Jim began quietly, "ever since the day I met you, you were all I could think about. It was only recently that I learned that I was in love with you. I had dreams of a night like this; I fucking _masturbated_ to fantasies of scenes like this! But, you have Uhura. You've always had Uhura. You _love_ Uhura. Not me." He paused, hesitating. "All I ever wanted was for you to say it back, but not like this. This isn't what I wanted. For you to _forget_ about her. I feel like... I feel like I'm taking advantage of you in a weakened state. I'm no different from T'Pau."

"Jim." Spock said again, his heart fluttering at knowing Jim loved him, but then quelled at the knowledge that he couldn't tell him the truth.

"No, don't say anything." The captain told him, taking his wrist back. "I don't want you like this. If I'm going to have you, I want it when you're better again. When your memory has returned. I respect Uhura, I would never—I _could never_ take her man away from her… No matter how much I may love you." Spock had heard enough. Standing up, he met Jim from behind and pulled him into a tight, backwards hug. He just held him, his fingers digging into his flesh from beyond the uniform fabric.

"Jim, I love you too." He whispered. "I have always loved you, but I am willing to make things right between us should you desire it. If you are uncertain, then let us forget this night and I will return to duty, return to my life, and try to remember, but I must ask that if I can not love her, as you say I have, then will you please allow me to love you instead?"

Jim was silent. "You are confused. I think the love you're showing me is the love you gave to her but somehow switched the person you were giving it to."

"This is untrue. I can say, without a doubt, that I have always loved you."

"But, how can you be sure?"

It was Spock's turn to hesitate. "Because you are my _t'hy'la_." Jim pulled himself away in that moment, keeping his eyes averted to the floor. He looked sad, but serious. Did he know what a _t'hy'la_ was?

"I want six months." He suddenly demanded, breaking the thick silence. Spock searched him. Jim apparently understood that he made absolutely no sense. "I mean that, in six months if you don't remember loving Uhura, or you can't bring yourself to love her again, and you still believe you love me, then I will give myself to you." An odd proposition, but in the name of all love that was illogical in itself, it was one Spock preferred than complete rejection of what had happened between them.

"Why six months?" He asked, Jim's featured turn grim.

"Because, I think in that amount of time, rejection will be easier to handle. For _me_." Then with a silent agreement to the terms (did he really have a choice?), Jim left. He was quick to escape, his face flushing and eyes hardening.

Six months. He had waited years for Jim; six months was a drop in the bucket when compared to a life long battle of missed opportunities. Taking a deep breath, Spock sat himself back down on the rug and cleared his thoughts for meditation.

Really, it was all he could do for the moment.

…


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – ***Penda** – One of the names told to Nichelle Nichols to be considered as Uhura's first name. http:/memory-alpha[DOT]org/wiki/Nyota_Uhura

…

Second Chances

Chapter Three

…

Given the circumstances, it wasn't the exile or the shameful display of emotion that darkened Spock's heart. In was, in fact, that with everything that had transpired in two days, Spock would never know the true identity of the person who had killed his younger self, and now that he was forbidden from New Vulcan, he would surely never find the culprit.

T'Pau and Sarek had informed him that they would search in his place and bring the accused to justice, but it did little for his thoughts. They knew, just as he knew, that the chance of finding a murderer among the controlled telepathic community was slim. Still, he urged them to try in his place.

Sarek affirmed he would find the culprit, however T'Pau didn't give her condolences on the matter, but this was not needed. After what happened at the funeral, Spock knew where his grandmother stood on the matter and though he would be unable to locate and determine punishment for the criminal himself, he knew T'Pau would handle the situation logically. Oh, how he was going to miss them, even if it was illogical to miss anything that didn't directly hinder you. So it came as no consequence as Spock took up his pocket full of illogic and dreams of a past that could be or never be again, he bid farewell to New Vulcan as Mr. Scott readied to beam him aboard the _Enterprise_.

_To new beginnings._

Spock, most definitely, was _not_ nervous. It had been many years since the Vulcan had first walked aboard the starship _Enterprise_ as a young officer, ready and willing for his missions. His memory told him it had been close to one-hundred and thirty years since that day, but with his trained mind and excellent recollection, he was able to recall exactly how he felt; the anticipation and illogical 'butterflies' in his stomach when Captain Pike first greeted him. That was how he felt now. He hadn't stepped a foot on the _Enterprise_ since he had been taken to this universe, and some part of him was filled with anxiety to find out what other differences this universe would throw at him.

Things had fallen back into a state of normality between him and Captain Kirk. Jim stood beside him, waiting to be beamed up with him with not so much as a hint of what had happened the night before. If Jim really wanted six months, then Spock could only deliver, and if Jim could hold back his feelings in a professional manner until then, well, Spock could do the same.

Before they were taken apart atom by atom, Jim revealed his flexibility in their friendship by leaning over and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Relax, Spock." He said with a small shake, "I know it's going to seem like a different place since your memory's on the fritz, but don't worry about it. It'll all come back to you." Spock didn't look at him, only raised his brow temporarily and took a breath to steel himself. It was amazing that this single Human beside him could make him _feel_ so much, and in good ways too. His reassurance did make him feel a little better.

Just as the whir of the transporter whispered into their ears, Spock turned to Jim with warmth in his eyes. "Thank you, Jim."

…

Both captain and commander walked the corridors. Spock was only two steps behind him, walking efficiently with his hands behind his back as he observed his surroundings. He noted that the ship appeared cleaner, whiter, and less gray and red than he remembered; this universe obviously partaking to the more 'pristine' models than the box-like designs he had seen before. The corridors were actually rounded, and this design was much more efficient than the starships he had served on previously, as the roundness prevented collapsing under different pressures.

Logical.

They were heading for the Bridge. This, Spock knew, but the route to get there was much different and longer than he remembered. They passed many officers, and only a few he could recognize. The ones he could name were not much different from their counterparts in his universe, but much younger and less eccentric in their personal styles.

While trying to walk and simultaneously calculate the odds that he wouldn't be able to recognize people due to these small differences, he almost collided with Jim as he waited for the turbolift doors to open. And 'almost' because when Jim turned around, Spock had already stopped himself and appeared indifferent enough that the captain would not be able to notice.

Entering the turoblift, the silent hum of the activation was the only sound heard until ten seconds into their journey.

"All crewmen have been notified that you are still recovering from your trauma." Jim told him. Spock arched a brow gracefully in response. The captain gave a shrug, "I know, I know. You appear fine to me too, but Bones insisted that I tell everyone since this memory loss could be more extensive than we assumed. I just don't want officers asking something of you that you can't do at the moment."

Spock turned towards him. "Captain, if you do not believe me fit for duty—"

"No, no," Jim stopped him with his raised hand, "_I_ think you're fit enough and capable enough to do your job, just try not to injure yourself if you don't remember things immediately. Oh, and if _you_ feel you're not fit for duty, don't hesitate to inform me. I'll relieve you of all duty until you are comfortable again." They turned away in unison.

"That is gracious of you, Captain—"

"I like to be flexible with my crew, Mr. Spock."

"However, I do not think your offer will need to be taken. I am confident in my abilities to adapt to any situation."

"Of course, Mr. Spock." And right at that moment, the turbolift doors opened and deposited them on to the Bridge.

Spock froze instantly.

This Bridge was _nothing_ like the Bridge he had known in his universe. It was larger, cleaner, brighter, with unfamiliar blips and beep noises, smaller computer consoles, and a floor polished so smoothly he could see his reflection just by looking down. He only stood there for about five seconds, taking it all in, before he stepped from the turbolift with a mask that told everyone he had done this a thousand times. There was a smile on Jim's face as he sat down in his command chair, and Spock recognized it as the captain poking fun at him. He could already hear him saying it without actually speaking; _"What was that about adapting, Mr. Spock?"_ It would be something his captain would have said given the situation, because the Vulcan was almost certain he had caught him in the minor falter of surprise.

He peered around. If the stations were placed correctly, then his station was where it always was at the far left. When he glanced over, sure enough there was an unoccupied console that looked nothing like his and yet he knew it was. In transit to his station, Spock took a moment to glance around at the Bridge crew and by the time he sat down, he had made a small catalogue of everyone he could see.

Hikaru Sulu was much younger, his build a little more masculine and defined from where it appeared he still studied fencing. His vibrant eyes still told a passion for something in life, and this pleased Spock to know that Mr. Sulu of both universes were so dedicated to their work and hobbies.

Beside Sulu was Pavel Chekov. He actually had a small double-take on this boy. He was _much_ younger than the Chekov he had known, frail, and timid looking. His features were softer and Spock found himself finding a use of the Standard word 'adorable' for once with nothing relating to small, furry creatures. If the Chekov he knew had been thrown into this universe and met this Chekov, he might have been insulted by the difference, but it was only the boy's movements that gave away to the professionalism he and the Chekov he knew shared.

He had met Montgomery Scott before, and there were really no differences besides this Mr. Scott being a little more edgy and hungry more than proclaiming his love for the Scottish culture and praising his liquor.

Then last, there was Uhura. She was working steadily and had not yet turned to look at him directly, but from what he could see was that she was a lot taller than the Lt. Uhura he had known, and much thinner, too. The Uhura he had known was shorter, more voluptuous, and not so much a stick as this woman was. Beyond physical appearance, her devotion to her job seemed a direct parallel, because she did not turn and look at him until she was completed with her tasks.

She smiled at him, warmly, and this he could tell was a direct parallel, only the smile he remembered was more from that of a best friend than that of a lover, which Captain Kirk had claimed. He was uncertain how to respond to her smile, so he ignored it and turned back to his station, instead focusing on the familiar and new instruments of his console.

For a few minutes, Spock was almost uncertain what to do. This station was similar to his, sure, but there were screens in places where large computers had once been, and fewer buttons or knobs and more touch-sensitive equipment which required little to no pressure to be activated. _Fascinating…_ This would take a while to get used to since he was more accustomed to manual machinery.

As he began to run the diagnostics of his computer to better get to know the programming, he heard Uhura call out to the captain.

"Captain, Starfleet has ordered that we patrol the new Federation Neutral Zone until Captain Damarcus sends his first mission status to Starfleet Command; due in forty-eight hours." Spock looked up from his station to see Jim groan and twirl in his chair with lazy feet.

"Seriously? That's boring as all hell!" Uhura gave a small giggle, a good indication that Jim often acted like this on the Bridge.

"It may be boring, Sir, but orders are orders." Jim twirled one last time in his command chair until he stopped at an angle that would best focus on the communications officer.

"Yeah, I know." He sighed and Spock found this strange. Perhaps Dr. McCoy had been more than right to tell him there would be more differences, because Spock hadn't known his captain to ever voice his boredom verbally for the Bridge crew to hear. The Vulcan had always assumed Jim worked that way to prevent depletion in morale, but looking across the Bridge, it seemed everyone agreed with Jim's feelings. No morale shattering, only nodding heads. It appeared Spock had more to learn than just his computer programming—he had an entire crew to re-learn!

His mind must have been occupied on that unconsidered thought for some time, because before he knew it, a warm hand placed itself on Spock's shoulder, causing him to glance up and meet startling blue eyes. Jim smiled down at him. "Think you can handle doing nothing for the next forty-eight hours, Mr. Spock?"

Spock offered him a raised brow in reply. "That is unlikely, Captain. Considering the amount of technology and computerized errors which occur daily on a Starship, I have no doubt that there will be plenty to accomplish in forty-eight hours."

"Oh, right." Jim told him with a slight flutter in his eyes. "I keep forgetting that even when there's nothing to do, you'll find _some_ way to prevent any fun." He then stuck his tongue out in what the Vulcan recognized and a terran 'raspberry', then walked away back to his chair with the Bridge mildly chuckling at his statement. Spock didn't see what was so funny, but whatever the case, the new commander felt it wasn't a jab at his habits, but the typical poking fun Jim often used on the Bridge. Mentally shrugging it off, Spock turned back to his station to continue his study.

Somehow, this Bridge felt different than the Bridge he had served on before, but not in a bad way. As he flicked through the programming and system preferences, he noted that he felt more 'at home'. How strange when he knew he should be feeling more out of place. Perhaps that was just what cosmic constants were about. Just as he recalled when Jim lied in his arms after their first kiss, he knew it had to be because this captain was _his_ captain. _His_ Jim. James Kirk always had a way to make him feel at home in the most unlikely of places.

On that note, Spock paused in his study for only a moment to turn his eyes to Jim. The captain sat in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his arms resting on the curved bowl-like handles. He looked beautiful, Spock had to admit. This man, so strong, so beautiful, and was the only Human he had ever known besides his own mother who made him feel this way.

He continued to stare until he felt another set of eyes on him. Turning away, Spock looked for the culprit who had broken his illogical concentration and found two brown eyes meet his from the communications station. Uhura was studying him, he thought, and she looked moderately confused with her eyes flicking between him and the captain. So not to give her any further suspicions, Spock swiveled back to his station and began again. If she were to call him on staring, he would no doubt deny it, but as it was, she said nothing and the shift continued.

…

Patrolling Neutral Zones was always tedious and unexciting, however, it left a lot of time for officers to catch up on needed work, repairs, and relax until their next mission. Spock, knowing that the next forty-eight hours would no doubt be needed, was thankful for the mission. Considering this _Enterprise_ was not exactly how he remembered it and some of the people were not quite how he recalled them either, he was grateful to take the last few hours of his shift to study the starship and the crew aboard her.

A good majority of his time was spent figuring out what certain aspects of his station performed and was quite pleased to find a switch that brewed him a small cup of Vulcan spice tea, even though he hadn't expected it and the whirring noise to make it gathered a few curious looks to him.

Then the other part of his time was spent looking over the internal and external structure of this different _Enterprise_. He had accessed the library banks and studied all he could about the starship he would now be serving on and was also quite pleased at the advancements and rearrangements this ship had. If memory served him correctly, this ship was only twenty-two percent bigger than the _Enterprise_ from his universe, but also held up to forty-seven percent more recreational facilities for the sake of the crew. Rooms were larger, corridors spaced out, and the science labs were fitted with the utmost efficient technology.

He thought it very unVulcan to admit, but he found the terran saying quite fitting in this situation: he felt like a kid in a candy store. The differences were far and few between, but what they entailed certainly interested him. He thought to himself that he would imply the memory loss thing up a little and see if he could somehow sway the captain into giving him a tour of certain sections. A light flush rushed up his cheeks when he began to wonder how different Jim's quarters must be. Would there still be that old wooden table they played 3D chess on? What about the wicker chairs they had gotten from Xelos II? Would it be rude to ask…?

His thoughts were interrupted by a simulated voice prompting him over his computer console. _"Commander Spock, Shift Alpha complete."_ _Interesting_, he thought, but then he began to hear other consoles around him murmur similar instructions to the crew sitting within earshot. It appeared his shift was over as the computer automatically prompted him for his fingerprint to initiate his clock-out for the next shift and directly below it had a cancel button should he wish to remain on shift. Efficient.

A loud yawn broke out over the Bridge as Jim sat up, stretched and pressed his thumb to the small screen on his chair. Just as he finished, the second shift began to file in, a small woman he hadn't seen before coming up to Spock's station and asking permission to take her shift or if Spock was still busy. Spock, for some reason looked up to Jim who shook his head knowingly.

"It's your first day back after a huge vacation, Mr. Spock. Let Lt. White take over and come eat dinner like the rest of us." Spock inclined his head, thinking what had happened on New Vulcan was anything _but_ a vacation, then looked away back at his station. He was still studying the inner chambers of the scientific facilities of the starship layout.

"I suppose I can finish in my quarters." Jim gave a warm smile.

"Very well. I've got to see Bones and plead him to take me off that damn salad diet and I'll meet you in the Mess. Sound good, Commander?" Spock nodded marginally and Jim took it as his answer, making his way towards the turbolift. As he watched him leave, Spock was relieved to see the captain acting just as carefree as he remembered him and nothing about their first kiss had left any dents in their friendship. Though it was pleasant to know Jim was interested in him, Spock knew better than to go back on their agreement. He would wait six months before any moves would be made, and in that time, he would settle himself in his new/old life and enjoy the friendship he often reminisced about before his counterpart's demise.

Pressing his thumb to the panel, Spock headed to the turbolift. Once inside, the doors swished closed around him and he turned to face them for his coming departure, only to be a little startled to see that he had brought along an unexpected passenger.

The instant the doors were snug tight, Lt. Uhura pressed her breast flush against Spock's front and wrapped her arms around him tightly. The action was so abrupt that the now Commander had very little time to ready himself for her emotions that swept across him. He immediately put up his shields.

Uhura nuzzled her nose into his neck. "Spock, Spock, Spock," she whispered into him, relief and sadness emitting from her. "I've wanted to do that all shift." She pulled away slightly, enough to give herself air as she peered up into his dark eyes. "When I heard what had happened, I nearly lost it, you know. I am so happy to see that you're safe…" Her eyes turned downcast for a brief moment, "I'm sorry about Selek, even though I know you'll tell me it was all logical, I'm still very sorry." She began to shake her head and then placed a light kiss on his throat. The emotion behind it caused him to blink in response.

Spock took her shoulders unsteadily, her emotions proving to be a little much for him, and slowly he peeled her off of his front. When she was no longer touching him, he released her, her eyes looking up at his without a shred of curiosity as to why he did that.

"The actions Ambassador Selek performed were logical." Spock told her, telling her exactly what she predicted, though the logic behind it wasn't exactly what she was referring to. She smiled anyway, giving a small nod.

"I knew it; but I'm not Vulcan. I still worry about you when you leave for missions." She moved a little closer, Spock instinctively moved back. She didn't seem to notice as she reached a hand behind him and stopped the turbolift. Despite the minor falters in movements from her close proximity, Uhura gave insight into how deep their relationship had been in this universe when she leaned forward to take his lips with her own. She moved slower now than she had before with her arms, giving Spock enough time to catch her shoulders again and stop her.

"I do not think that is appropriate work ethics, Lieutenant." She looked confused, then gave a giggle while simultaneously reaching her arms out again.

"Why do you think I stopped the 'lift?" Spock stopped her again. She gave a pout before stepping back, obviously seeing he didn't want to be touched. "Spock, what's wrong? Are you feeling ill?" Before the Vulcan could give her an answer, she answered herself. "Oh, oh my god, that's right. I forgot. You're having memory problems. Did you forget how to put up your shields?" She began looking at herself as though her emotions were clearly visible on her person. In a sense, this was true.

Spock shook his head. "I am not having difficulty in putting up my mental shields."

"Then, what it is?" Spock knew what the real problem was but didn't quite have the words to tell her just then. He had hoped that confrontation like this wouldn't occur for a few days, but then Spock remembered how animated Jim had been over the presumed relationship the two were sharing. It was illogical to think this wouldn't occur on the first day back. His Vulcan civilities told him not to postpone any longer. Vulcans did not lie, and as such, he couldn't pretend to love a woman he had never loved before.

"Lieutenant, how long have we been in courtship?" Uhura's features looked at him like he had just blabbed the entire Periodic Table. It took her a few seconds to recover and voice the time.

"Three years and two months." Spock offered a nod and continued. They had been together a longer time than he had anticipated. He assumed Jim had exaggerated when he said three or four years back in his room on New Vulcan. This was going to be difficult—for her.

"I am… most apologetic, but I must inform you that," he paused briefly, "I do not remember being in a relationship with you over the past three years and two months." There. He said it. And just like Dr. McCoy had done when he told the doctor of his plan, Uhura's face dropped. It took a bit longer for her to recover this time before she went into near frantic movements.

"You're—you're joking, right?" Spock only stared at her. "You… You don't remember it? _Any_ of it?" He shook his head in silence. Uhura visibly gulped something in her throat. "I _knew_ I should have gone with the landing party!" She sneered, "I knew it! I just _knew_ it!"

"Lieutenant, I am regrettably apologetic to also inform you that I do not believe your presence would have made much difference in the events on New Vulcan." Statistically, if she had gone down there with his counterpart, the likelihood might have resulted in her own death.

Her face went through a barrage of features before she clasped her hands and peered back up at him, desperation flowing from her. "That does explain why you looked so distraught and unfamiliar on the Bridge." She paused. "But, maybe your memory will come back if you're reminded. Perhaps if I—" she began to move forward, Spock stopped her yet again, catching her shoulders like before, her feelings bleeding straight into him.

"I would not feel comfortable with you engaging in what I am assuming you are about to do." She fell in his grip, her body suddenly taking on a heaviness he knew could match her sorrow. He hadn't wanted to do this to her, Uhura being one of his closest friends from his universe, but he was left with no choice. "Due to these circumstances," he paused again, readying himself for her next emotional onslaught this would cause, "I find it illogical to continue a relationship that I do not remember." The brown orbs in front of him started to wobble, then came the predicted tears. She pulled herself from him, now it was anger he felt from her.

"You're breaking up with me?" She asked through a choked sob, the realization finally being voiced instead of implied.

"I am sorry. But, yes, Uhura." Her head snapped up at him, the fury for the situation directly aiming for him.

"Goddamnit, Spock! If you're going to do this, at least call me by my first name!" Her shout startled him, though he knew he hadn't shown it. Due to the fact that his counterpart and Uhura had been together so long, it was logical to assume they used first names by this point. So really, he could only agree to her request.

"I will oblige your request, Penda*." Silence. For a moment, she stopped completely. Her movements, her tears, even her breath seemed to stop all at once. Uhura looked away, looked at him, looked away, then she wiped the tears from her beautiful face as she barely whispered.

"That's not my name." The statement confused Spock, if Penda wasn't her name, then what was it? He tried again, just to make sure she hadn't heard it incorrectly.

"Your name is not Penda?"

She shook her head, confirming the name. "No." She gave a bitter laugh and bit her lower lip. "I guess it was true. You _did_ lose a lot more memory than anticipated." She didn't dare look at him again. Uhura gave a sigh and started back up the turbolift after a few moments of silence. "I suppose it would be illogical to remain angry about something that really isn't your fault. I mean," she wiped more tears that stung their way to the surface, "you're a _Vulcan_. I guess I'm grateful for that because had you been Human, you would have kept on pretending to love me when you couldn't remember anything. And if that had happened… both of us would've been seriously hurt." She finally made her eyes meet his. They were still wet even when she gave a weak smile. "It's just… of all the things I expected after hearing about your accident, this wasn't what I imagined."

Spock nodded. "I do not believe anyone expected this outcome after such serious events."

"You're right."

"Statistically speaking, the probability of such events were—" She stopped him with her fingers on his lips. Another weak smile on her sweet face.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean that you're right. Right about us breaking up. Maybe, it would be for the best… But, Spock?" Her fingers dropped and the turbolift stopped on the deck Spock had set it for. The doors were waiting to be initiated by motion. "Can you make me a promise?" His silence was answer enough for her, though the Vulcan gave no indications he would agree to it. "Even if we can't be lovers—at least not right now—can we still be friends? Can I still confide in you like we did before? You _do_ remember our friendship, right? Can you make me this promise?" Spock hesitated for many moments before he gave a nod in approval. This would please him. He had been worried that these events may hinder their working relationship and cause problems he could not prevent due to her Human nature, but with her declaration to remain friends (until he remembered their relationship, was the unspoken part) was something he was thankful for her to voice.

That being all the answer she needed, Uhura turned away from him, activating the motion sensors of the turoblift and proceeding out. Spock tried not to hear her trying to hold back her sobs, but that was illogical, he knew. It was more painful than he thought to see her so upset. If only he could have—no, that was illogical. He did not love her, _could_ not love her. This was logical. The end of their courtship was logical.

The moment the doors closed around him again, Uhura's person no longer within his vicinity, Spock took in a deep breath and fell backwards against the turbolift's walls. It was like a window had opened and finally allowed him to breathe, though he didn't know he had been holding his breath. Uhura's emotions had indeed, been too much to handle, so much that he hadn't even realized it until she was gone.

His legs wobbled, arms felt heavy, and his mind felt as if it was cracking like porcelain. Spock's body needed more time to adjust to his _katra_ and hadn't handled the tidal wave of emotions as controlled as he would have liked. Looking down at his shaken exterior, Spock knew he probably looked as bad as he felt and even knowing that the other officers around him would not notice the difference in his capabilities, Jim would be sure to notice him. Jim used to always notice when he was slightly off and not himself. It was like a silent game Jim often played and Spock allowed.

He would later tell himself it was his old age that let that smile slip over his lips, but there was no denying it. Thinking of Jim and their past escapades always made him smile. Spock was most thankful that there was no one else in the turbolift to see him like that, and even more thankful when he remembered Jim's understanding nature. He couldn't go to dinner like this. So instead of ordering the turbolift back to Deck 7, he ordered it to Deck 5, where the personal quarters were.

He needed to mediate. It wasn't like one canceled dinner would hinder his chances of proving his love for the captain, and Jim would understand once he caught word that he and Uhura were no longer dating. If the _Enterprise_ crew were still anything like he remembered, it wouldn't be long before the entire ship knew of their break-up. He just hoped that in his weakened state, Spock would make it to his quarters in time before passersby started any other rumours.

…

Out of all the differences this universe had possessed, Spock found himself rather grateful that his cabin code was still the same. With how out-of-sorts he felt, the last thing he wanted to do was bother the captain to allow him entry into his own cabin.

The door swished open letting out all the warm air in a gush. It felt wonderful to his chilled skin and slowly he stepped forward to embrace the warm darkness of the room—but then he stopped short.

Spock stood frozen just outside the door as he peered into the blackness. In the pit of his stomach he felt a tinge of worry, anxiety. _This is not my cabin,_ whispered into his thoughts. Well, technically it was, but it wasn't. His mind raced at the thought that he was, in a way, about to trespass into a domain that wasn't his. Would it be very different? His younger counterpart had never sent him a transmission from his cabin before, so Spock, quite literally, knew nothing of its contents and whether they'd be different or similar.

The Vulcan looked around the hall; no one was in sight, _yet_, but if he stayed there any longer, he was bound to attract someone's attention and cause a form of alarm—or at least curiosities. Technically, it was his cabin, so by that logic Spock took a step forward to immerse himself in the warmth quickly, so he wouldn't have a chance to back out again when a familiar drawl stopped him.

"I thought it was you looming in the corridors." McCoy said, arms draped in their familiar crossed fashion and a look that often meant the doctor had places to be and didn't want to take side trips. Spock had stopped in mid-step, so he placed his foot back on the floor and greeted the doctor with a nod.

"Dr. McCoy." Spock said, but Bones ignored it and threw a tricorder over him that he didn't notice the doctor had until he whipped it out from his pockets. He finished quickly.

"How are you feeling? You look like shit, by the way, that's why I'm asking, so none of this 'Vulcans don't feel' crap." The doctor ordered as he put the tiny tricorder away. Spock was impressed. He was showing nothing different than he usual exterior, even though he was feeling horrible after Uhura's emotional wreckage, but then thought that he wasn't surprised since Dr. McCoy often knew of his habits and typical behaviour even if he often ridiculed just the opposite.

"I am optimal, Doctor." Spock finally said, Bones giving him a glare that told him he had better elaborate or there was a hypo with his name on it, "The body is still trying to accept my _katra_ and has weakened my mental shields which has caused minor fluctuations in my ability to suppress emotional influence, but other than this inconsequential predicament, I am in full health and control of my body." McCoy gave a nod.

"Good to know. Keep me posted, though. I'm a doctor, not a Vulcan voodoo priestess, so I have no idea how this whole moving _katra_ thing works." He eyed the Vulcan in front of him. "You just report anything to me that doesn't seem right, got me?" Spock nodded. "And no shrugging it off, either." Spock raised a brow. "I mean it. If I hear through the grape vine that you're not yourself, I'll bust your ass to Sickbay so fast—"

"Grape vine, Doctor?" McCoy stopped mid rant and paused before he threw his arms back into a fold, leaning on his heels and giving a disgruntled 'harumph'.

"You're old enough to be my grandfather three times; you know what I fucking mean by 'grape vine'. Don't play dumb. I hated it when Spock did it and I'm going to hate it _even more_ when you do it."

For an instant, Spock felt a stab in his side. "I shall endeavour not to question the Human colloquialisms you present to me in the future, however strange they may be." McCoy grumbled something incoherent, shook his head and began off, giving a small mutter about meeting the captain in the Mess. Before the doctor had made his complete escape, Spock called to him. Since McCoy understood his situation, it may have been best if Bones would join him during mediation to make sure his vitals remained intact. He could wait until after dinner until then, so he proposed the suggestion to the halted doctor.

McCoy declined. "Sorry, but I got other medical emergencies and I ain't got time to sit and monitor you in the Sahara over there. Tell you what, come down to Sickbay whenever you want and I'll put you in a nice, cold bed with the full ensemble of monitoring devices." The way he said it, Spock knew it meant that Dr. McCoy had no interest in helping him personally, just as much as Spock had no interest in letting the medical computers record his health status. The words were cold, biting, even for the doctor.

When Bones turned again to leave him, Spock couldn't stop himself as he spoke once more. He had to know if McCoy meant it that way… "Dr. McCoy," The doctor reluctantly stopped again, but this time didn't bother to turn around to face him. "Is it really that you do not wish to provide me aide, or is there another reason for your decline?" The doctor kept still for many moments, his hands involuntarily clenching at his sides until he slowly turned on his heels, peering back at the Vulcan. His eyes were dark, saddened compared to his features which always looked angry. With silent steps, the doctor walked forward again until he was as close to Spock as he deemed comfortable.

"It's not that I don't want to help you," he began, his voice wavering a bit. His eyes moved from Spock to the open door, the heat still seeping out into the halls. Spock hadn't bothered to close it yet, maybe with the illogical hope Dr. McCoy would join him into the alien room. "In all honesty, I ain't got much of a choice in the matter since I was the one who put the last nail in Spock's coffin." Bones hesitated. "It's just… I ain't stepping foot into a _dead man's_ domain." The words 'dead man' seemed to echo into Spock's thoughts. McCoy brought him back to attention, "So if you want to get checked out, you're going to have to do it in Sickbay—or in my office if you want some privacy, but I ain't going in _there_." He shook his head, looking back into the dark room, Spock following the doctor's eyes. "I respect Spock too much to invade his privacy now. It's just too bad I never got to tell him that to his face." Spock peered at him questioningly, but McCoy seemed to read his mind in a grim fashion. "No. _You_ don't count, either."

With those last words, the doctor went to give Spock a clap on the shoulder but stopped just before he touched the Vulcan, curling in his fingers and letting them drop to his sides. Within moments, the doctor was gone, Spock standing in the corridors with nothing but the image of McCoy's back ghosting through his thoughts.

In the air lingered a sadness Spock hadn't recognized before. It was McCoy's sadness, something he had felt marginally back on New Vulcan, but it made since that he would feel it stronger now. The younger body was still learning how to cope with harsh Human feelings, and this was something Spock had considered only briefly before the switch. It appeared he would be meditating often to reconstruct the barriers he had learned to make over the decades to prevent such an enormous amount of emotional transfer. He would need to if he wished not to drown in the Human emotions around him, especially that of McCoy's since he knew about his counterpart's death.

Looking back at the open door, Spock knew what he had to do. It was illogical to keep thinking on the subject and meditation was needed now before McCoy's emotions added fuel to those of Uhura's. As much as his Human-side begged him to go after the doctor, hold him, tell him it would be okay, he knew that wasn't logical and instead, braced himself for entry into a room which would surely cause him more harm than help at first. Besides, if he was really going to take over his counterpart's life, standing out in the corridors certainly wasn't going to aide in that endeavour.

Logic taking over, he took four steps—the doors swishing around him until tightly closed.

…


	4. Chapter 4

Second Chances

Chapter Four

…

"Lights."

It took more strength than Spock thought it would to say it, but finally, he did, the computer illuminating the room in full. McCoy's voice echoed back into his thoughts, _'dead man'_ rapping against his skull. For a moment, he couldn't even see the room, his thoughts clouding his vision and making his heart at his side ache uncontrollably.

Steadying himself, physically and mentally, he blinked away the harsh echoes and looked around at the cabin.

Though it was warm, it strangely felt cold. The walls where he had placed antiques and shrouds dedicated to his culture, his counterpart's room bore nothing. Vacant, stale grey. The bed was pushed as far back as possible, concealed by a mesh wall divider that looked almost like prison bars to him, casting a terrible prison-bar-like shadow over the simple bedspread. Mute red. The floor had virtually nothing on it, save the required furniture such as a desk and chair. The room felt lonely, as though his counterpart had spent many nights in this room alone without so much as a Yoeman to come and brighten it up. _Or Jim,_ he thought absently, but bat the thought away when he remembered that his counterpart had had Uhura. Had she ever seen this room? Perhaps the two had spent more time in her quarters than this one? A part of him hoped it was true, because this room was just too clean, too pristine, too—lonely.

He began to look around for the storage of supplies reserved for meditation. Even if his younger self hadn't kept around reminders of his Vulcan heritage, he must have kept some form of candles and incense for meditating. Looking around, he was surprised not to find them in the closet or in the wall-drawers. His last place to look seemed to be the nightstand by the bed. There was a small drawer that looked like it could hold candles. Approaching it, he settled down on to his knees for better access when he came to an abrupt stop. On the nightstand, a lying frame caught his eye. Curiosity appeared to get the better of him as he reached out to the frame and propped it upright. It was strange for anyone with twenty-third century technology to keep pictures instead of holographs, even more so the technology-loving Vulcans, but the contents of the picture helped him to form a hypothesis as to why his counterpart had had it at all.

In the picture was Amanda, his mother, smiling while lying on a couch, and in her arms was a small infant—Spock, sleeping curled in her arms. The picture would have been sweet, nostalgic even, if it weren't for the cracks. At the base of the frame was an indention that fit his fingers perfectly, and then there were cracks at the top right that were symptoms of being thrown. Analyzing the room, Spock observed small flecks of glass towards the closet area in the corner he didn't see before. The picture had indeed, at one time, been thrown. And by the noticeable glass yet to be cleaned up, it had to have been recent.

Spock turned back to the picture, studying it, trying to piece together what might have caused the outburst of emotion. He couldn't think of a time where he might have been angry with his mother, and certainly since her death, his younger self hadn't shown any signs of resentment towards her or himself when speaking about her. It was…odd.

He lacked any further evidence to support any theories, so logically, Spock decided it best to respect the departed and put the picture back on the nightstand, right side up. Then, he opened the drawers to reveal exactly what he was looking for: candles and incense. He took them out one at a time and set up a small spot on the vacant floor until he was certain he had formed a perfect circle with ten lit candles and one incense. Then he settled into the middle of the alien room, ordered the lights out and straightened his back. He breathed for many moments, steadying his heartbeat and reducing the strain on his new body. After silent minutes, he fell into a steady meditation, all emotions vacating his body like watery ink running off paper.

It seemed so easy at first. Meditation being something he had done for decades, but now, it was harder to concentrate than usual. Spock decided to attribute it to the fact that he was resting in a quiet, empty room that spoke of no sign of his counterpart. However, logic soon whittled through his thoughts and told him it was actually due to his new body. Something about it was off, making concentrating on meditation difficult. He attempted several times to regain his focus, trying to clear the unwanted emotions, feeling something like an invisible thread tugging at his mind to prevent him. Spock couldn't explain the feeling, deciding it was a form of anxiety. Thinking it best not to strain the new flesh about his bones, Spock settled into a light meditation. He would attempt something deeper at a later time, possibly in the presence of Dr. McCoy, but for now, this would do. Anything was better than feeling the clutch of both the doctor's and the communication officer's emotional left-overs.

It took many moments, but it appeared to work. Spock found the light meditation just as he needed and relaxed in the ghostly cabin until each candle flickered out of existence.

…

_Dead man._

_Dead man._

_Dead man._

The Vulcan saw his younger counterpart. He was leaned over his science table where the older Vulcan had been working on some experiments for Starfleet. His younger self looked just as uptight as Spock remembered himself to be. The old Vulcan gave a small inward smile and approached him.

Younger Spock didn't move from where he was standing, moving the papers about and adding data to his tricorder. He didn't even look up at his older self until the older Vulcan called his name.

"_Spock."_

The younger Spock looked up, his deep brown eyes betraying nothing of his heritage as Older Spock reached out with the grace a father might his own son. He almost pitied himself that he never knew the love of a father, and embraced the boy's cheek in hopes to convey the love and warmth he felt from seeing his younger self obtain the opportunities he had been deprived in his universe. _A father's love._ The younger Vulcan's eyes shut smoothly, and his breath hitched. His younger self didn't seem to mind the touch, so Elder Spock decided to test his boundaries a bit further, bringing his younger self towards his breast into a light embrace.

His younger self stilled in the touch, but slowly began to relax as their breathing began to match. Then slowly, and after many moments of nothing, his younger counterpart reached his arms up and placed them tightly about his older self. Elder Spock secured the embrace. The younger Vulcan increasing strength too, until it seemed that both wanted to be pulled inside the other. Many more minutes passed, the hold remaining firm until Elder Spock heard small whimpers on his shoulder.

It was harder to pull younger Spock away than he thought it would be, but he succeeded after a few tugs at the boy's arms and finally revealed his younger face to the cool air around them.

Tears stained the younger Vulcan's cheeks.

"_I am... afraid."_ Younger Spock admitted. Elder Spock's heart thrummed a hard beat as he took his younger self back into the strong hold.

"_I am with you now. There is no need to be afraid."_

"_It is cold… and dark."_

"_You are in error, my younger self. We are in my studies. The New Vulcan suns are bright and warm. Open your eyes."_ He felt Spock struggle in his arms.

"_I… cannot."_

"_You must try."_

"_I… I am sorry. I… cannot."_ Elder Spock felt the younger Vulcan tremble in his grip. Almost feeling panic rise in his throat, the older Vulcan removed himself, grasping Spock by the shoulders to stare him in the face. Younger Spock's eyes were screwed shut, obvious pain written on his face. Elder Spock shook him once, trying to get him to open his eyes, feeling the strong urge to keep telling him to open them, but they did not. When several moments passed, Elder Spock's worry deepened and with that, so did his shakes.

"_Spock!"_ On his last and final shake, he had apparently done it too hard. His eyes went wide, his heart sinking into his hips as he watched in slow motion every fiber of his younger counterpart's being turn into sand. Elder Spock reached out, trying to grasp him as he fell into pieces around him. It was for naught. The younger Vulcan slowly crumbled like wet sand, until he lay in tiny grains among the dark floor.

He could only stare.

Spock's eyes shot open with the fierceness he hadn't known since his childhood days. He gazed up at the ceiling above him, registering it as the same stale grey he remembered from earlier. His brow was clammy, and his limbs heavy, but there was no doubt that what Spock had just experienced was what Humans called a nightmare.

Spock sat up in the bed. His body's natural cooling system was struggling to regulate his body temperature, symptoms of tossing and turning while asleep. When his skin met the air around him, it made him feel cold, so Spock brought the covers up and over his naked shoulders for warmth. He stared down at the bed where his knees made peaks in the covers, and then his gaze was slowly brought up to his own hands. For some reason, he felt the need to make sure everything around him was real. Vulcans didn't often dream, and nightmares were practically unheard of in their culture. Was his Human half to blame for this?

The dream was still fresh in his mind, so the Vulcan tried to catalogue and save any data he could fathom on the occurrence. He had dreamed of his _younger self_ and _himself_ fighting for something. What were they fighting for? His mind sat stagnate on the images for some time, until finally, and sleepily, Spock could think no more. This was silly. Dreams were not _so_ unheard of that this was of any significance, and it was probably attributed to the fact that he had gone to bed without any sustenance with the thoughts of a recently departed Vulcan on his mind. Though strange, it was illogical to think of it as anything else. Clearly, Spock was hungry and unVulcanly upset. The dream meant nothing. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself up until he lied back down and tried again for a peaceful rest.

…

Spock walked from his cabin with a bit of uneasiness in his steps. He would not say that he had tried to leave quickly, but certainly his pattern of stride had increased over the days in direct correlation to his dreams, making his departure from the cabin twelve percent quicker than any other time he had exited.

The halls around him were bustling with morning life as off-duty crew made their way to bed and the morning crew made their way to their stations. Before Spock would go to his station himself, he decided it best to eat something. The night before had made him weary and logically having food in his stomach would help to remedy the situation. Dressed in his proper uniform, Spock descended the halls for the turbolift.

He mentally noted that since his 'break-up' with Lt. Uhura over two weeks ago, the rumour he was available had spread through the female crewmembers not unlike wildfires on Vulcan. Making his way to the turbolift, he had counted a minimum of twelve ladies who had given the type of look often referred to as flirtatious. The soft fluttering of eyelashes, the quiet and sincere voices, the new hairstyles and make-up. It was illogical to deny his aesthetics if women approved of them, so he only nodded and conceded to the fact that he was considered handsome by some of the females on board the _Enterprise_. Oh, and _one_ male, that he was aware of.

Back in his own universe, Spock vaguely remembered his bouts with the female populace. Being the first Vulcan to enlist in Starfleet, he had attracted many men and women, all who claimed him handsome. One woman who really believed this was a tall blonde named Leila. Looking back on it, it was no wonder he had been attracted to her as well as her to him. She was tall, masculine for a woman, with bleach blonde hair, and strong features. In all respects, she was the female version of the blonde cadet he refused to acknowledge attraction for: Cadet James Kirk.

After working in Starfleet and later becoming the first officer to this boisterous cadet, he still had many bouts with multiple men and women, some of which seemed to be encouraged by his captain. However, though the memories served to remind him that there would be those who would always find him aesthetically pleasing, Spock had not been prepared for the shear onslaught of attractions his counterpart would receive. It seemed that in this reality, Spock was considered an unattainable sex icon throughout the _Enterprise_.

Humans may have viewed his thoughts as smug, but Spock found it illogical to deny facts. He was _hot_.

Spock entered the turbolift, unknowingly taking with him a passenger he hadn't expected. Once it started, his vision became full of Ensign Jacqueline Russo, a tall, curvy, dark-haired woman with hazel eyes and a skin-tight red uniform. In his universe, Ensign Russo had been considered one of the most beautiful woman on board by the men, and in this universe, it appeared no different if her bold pose was anything to judge by. She sauntered her hips and placed her hands at her sides in such a way to give Spock a view of her curvy body. When she spoke, her voice sounded soothing with an Italian brogue he was unfamiliar with.

"Commander Spock," she began, her full lips showing how plush they were with each syllable.

"Ensign Russo." Spock acknowledged back.

Her eyes flicked him up and down, very unprofessional like. "Perhaps you can help me settle something that's been spreading among the gossip lines."

"I am no stranger to gossip, Ensign, however, I do not contribute to it." Her smile seductively widened.

"Of course not, Commander, but I assume you would know the truth behind any gossip that involves yourself." The Vulcan inclined his head in a manner to suggest that he would. She continued. "For the past two weeks there's been rumour that you and Lt. Uhura are no longer a couple. Now, I've heard this rumour spread before, so I'm reluctant to give it credit, but I must admit that even I have noticed the lack of audience with her. Does this rumour hold any legitimacy?" Why wasn't the turbolift fast enough?

"That is a personal matter, Ensign, and not one I am inclined to accept or dismiss willingly. As you know, Starfleet urges professionalism on starships and romantic anonymity to remain an anonymity." She nodded and moved her body so that she was standing beside him. Her long, wavy dark hair was coincidentally out of uniform regulation and draped across her shoulders and back.

"Let me guess, she dumped you?" Spock said nothing, only stared at the doors in hopes that they would open soon. Ensign Russo wasn't an unappealing woman, it was just that he didn't have time to play Human love games, at least not with her. He decided to end it.

"For personal reasons, I ended our courtship. Lt. Uhura understood and we went our separate ways. I am not looking nor am I inclined to search for another woman to take her place at this moment and would be gratified if you and any others in the gossip chain would cease your rumours." The answer appeared to startle Ensign Russo. Her eyes went a little wide and her pouty mouth taking on an 'o' shape. It was another few seconds before anyone spoke.

"Forgive me, Commander, I didn't mean to offend you."

"There is no need, Ensign, I am Vulcan and therefore can not be offended, however, the same can not be said for Lt. Uhura and I am certain rumours like these do not please her." At that moment, the turbolift doors finally opened, allowing Spock to make his escape to the Mess Hall. Once he stepped from the confines of the turbolift, Ensign Russo held the doors open in order to call out to him one last time.

"Commander Spock," he stopped and only turned his head to give the impression he was listening, "I thank you for your honesty, but if you are convinced gossip won't offend you, then I'm almost certain you haven't heard the latest rumour about yourself." Reluctantly, Spock turned to face her. What was she talking about? Her lips curled into a beautiful smile again. She had his attention. "There's word you left Lt. Uhura for another."

"Hardly seems worth my acknowledgment, Ensign." She gave a tiny giggle.

"Yes, it does seem insignificant, and normally it would be since it's all hearsay, but the rumour I heard wasn't that it was another woman. I heard it was a _man_." When Spock looked at her again, his Vulcan civilities told him he could not lie, but there was no way he was going to give that away to her. He schooled his face, almost giving off an expression of annoyance and began off.

"I am not concerned, Ensign, as rumours like that have followed me as long as I have served in Starfleet." He left her on that note, giving the impression he had business elsewhere and not enough time to play on the playground with her. When he turned a corner, he saw her out of the corner of his eye her shaking her head with a smile that one might call devious. Of course, the new younged Vulcan had given nothing away that he as aware of and decided it best to ignore her.

Logical.

Now that he was no longer in the scrutiny of Ensign Russo, Spock allowed himself to relax marginally. There wasn't a real reason to be so concerned with her nor the rumours she had provided to him. It was true what he had said, after all. Rumours like that _had_ been following him ever since he first enlisted into Starfleet. First it was Ensign S't'olle, a man who had managed to befriend him over sciences. Then there was Captain Pike, because they had been close in their professional and private lives, and a few others had been peppered in from time to time, but more from girlish fantasies than any actual proof. It was an entertaining thought that while he served on the _Enterprise_ no one had ever questioned his feelings for Captain Kirk. It had taken many years, after his travels to complete _Kolinahr _on Gol, before anyone began to question his and Jim's 'friendship'. But little did they understand that there really hadn't been anything between them. Perhaps they both had been in love, it was just too much a risk to chance their professional careers—or perhaps it had only been one-sided. The thought brought a sense of gloom to his eyes. Though it was a possibility like all the other ideas, its chances of being true were the highest. He found himself feeling thankful that at least in this universe, in this body, he could get a second chance—and lucky for him that Jim had reciprocated.

He internally thanked his departed younger counterpart.

The moment the Mess doors swished open, Spock's normal face set itself back into its usual stone. He had no more desire to think about what could have been and what wasn't. He was here now, and he did know that Jim loved him back, it was all just a matter of proof and time now before he could relish in its warmth. Nothing spurred on that desire more than when Spock glanced around the Mess and saw the captain and Dr. McCoy enjoying their breakfast together. It was just like old times to him, and since the young doctor was present, Spock now had an excuse to gather his breakfast and join them. It wasn't the right time to chance being alone with the captain just yet. No matter how much he wanted to be.

After gathering his breakfast tray of fruit from the Mess replicator, Spock walked to the table inhabited by his fellow superior officers and sat down in front of them. Dr. McCoy offered a small roll of his eyes while Jim gave a beautiful smile.

"So you do eat breakfast." Jim stated, "And here I thought Bones's been lying to me all these years!" It was true that this was the first time Spock had eaten in the presence of his captain since coming aboard and knew very little of his younger counterpart's eating habits, but surely the captain and he had eaten together for breakfast before?

"That is illogical, Captain. Vulcans are known to eat three meals a day just as the Humans." He told him while lifting a fork of fruit to his mouth. Jim offered a small chuckle.

"You wouldn't know it with how often we catch you in the labs than we do in the Mess." So his counterpart had decided to deem his work more logical than spending time with his captain. How odd since Spock knew in his universe he would spend any time he could with Jim, that didn't look so obvious, of course. From empty rooms, to nearly absent stations and possessions, Spock was beginning to wonder if his counterpart had been enjoying his time serving on the _Enterprise_ at all. Certainly when he had told his younger self to do what 'felt right', he hadn't meant to imply that the boy should sacrifice his own happiness just because an older version of him told him to. This weighted heavy on Spock's mind. He was, after all, in an alternate universe, the rules that had applied to his timeline didn't necessarily apply to this one. Perhaps he had been wrong…

"Spock?" The newly younged Vulcan looked up, trying his best not to look so startled at the call of his name. The looks on both the doctor's and the captain's face were enough to inform him that they had called him more than once. "Are you okay?" Jim continued, a weak smile and slight furrowed brows appeared. "For the past few days you've seemed really out of it." The sentence was an innocent one, there was absolutely no reason for his heart to skip a beat and a clot form in his throat. Looking at Dr. McCoy, it appeared he wasn't the only one flustered over the completely-not-in-any-way-accusing sentence.

"I am Vulcan." Spock defaulted, taking a casual bite of his fruit. "You must be in error, Captain. Vulcans do not appear 'out of it' as we are more logical and organized in our thought patterns than Humans." A sharp blow struck his shin, but Spock kept his firm posture and stone-like features. Bones had coincidentally yawned at the precise moment he was struck and was currently glancing away with a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was no doubt in his mind that the doctor had decided his Vulcan ego needed a little more shattering.

"Yeah," Jim agreed with a small stifled laugh, "_silly me_ to keep assigning you illogical _Human traits_, Spock." It was a quip like any other, and yet there was an unspoken sadness behind it. Before Spock could analyze the sentence any further, Jim stood up with his tray. His overexcited ego was in full flair and grin as wide as possible. "Just try to get more sleep, okay? I can't have my strong, sturdy, Vulcan first officer falling down on the job."

"I shall endeavour to increase my rest period, Captain, should you feel it necessary." He nodded his head in approval, but the captain didn't acknowledge him any further, simply giving a smile and heading out of the Mess. When he was completely out of earshot, a loud, distinct southern drawl forced its way through Vulcan ears.

"So you'll do it when Jim tells you but _screw_ what the damn _doctor_ has to say on the matter!" Spock took another casual bite of his fruit.

"You are speaking nonsense, Doctor."

"Don't toy with me, you ice-blooded, asshole! You know damn well that I've been trying to tell you to get more rest since we beamed back on board! And from the looks of it, you're so damn obvious with your lack of rest that even your _captain_ is beginning to notice!" Spock tried his best to hide a faint smile.

"I am not surprised to garner his notice."

"Well, I am!" Bones interjected angrily but still managing to keep his voice in a whisper, throwing his fork down on his tray at the same instance. "If he keeps eyeing you like he does we're going to be in a shitload of trouble!" he slammed his fist to further grab the Vulcan's attention, "All it's going to take is for him to see _one thing_ that isn't right, _one thing_ that reminds him of you—the older you—and it's game over!" This was true. The fact that Jim had asked if he was okay did imply that he was noticing irregularities, but the captain was also aware of his still recent 'trauma' and 'memory loss'. Though the doctor had every right to be worried, the more logical assumption would be that Jim was still concerned for his health via the problems encountered on New Vulcan, so there was no need for alarm. Spock told Bones as such.

"It's becoming very apparent to me that you don't know Jim." Bones warned, moving his tray aside so he could rest his palms on the table. That sentence strangely irritated the Vulcan, but he didn't show it. "I don't know how different he is when comparing him to your Jim Kirk, but _this_ Jim Kirk has a keen eye on him and he was also practically stitched to Spock's hip before the whole crazy storm down on New Vulcan. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you're not the same—you're not _his_ Spock—and comes to terms with the fact your relationship has changed." The more Spock listened to him, the more the Vulcan became aware that anger was rising in his throat. His quickly threw the emotion aside, but found it lurking in the shadows of his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was calm and cool, but he words were laced with slight tension.

"Then what do you propose we do, Doctor?" Bones stared at him, but Spock barely noticed it since he kept his eyes firmly on his half-eaten fruit tray.

"_Propose?_ I propose you give up this damn charade before you not only hurt Jim, but yourself! You're just _not_ _Spock._" The Vulcan's chair slid out from under him so loudly that he managed to make the Mess fall into silence. Spock stood, eyeing the doctor with evenness only a Vulcan could control. His lips were drawn in a thin line and eyes piercing into the brown ones of the younger doctor. It took most of his strength to keep him from shouting, but the new commander managed it with his years of experience.

"I have said this before, and I will say it again," Spock began in a hushed tone that only Dr. McCoy could hear, "I. _Am._ Spock. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?" The stare off lasted a complete thirty seconds. Bones huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly, wholly ignoring the Vulcan's unspoken threat, knowing he had numbers on his side since they couldn't really discuss this in public.

"Yeah, you're Spock alright." He grumbled under his breath. Then he turned his dark eyes strictly to the Vulcan's and held them tightly. "But you'll never be _his_ Spock. _Our_ Spock." Anger encompassed his mind, but Spock knew it was only his younger counterpart's inexperienced body trying to fathom his experienced mental techniques. Control appeared to grace him as instead of letting the anger prove him more unVulcan than his display at his own funeral, Spock turned on his heels and paused.

"Good day, Doctor. I shall see you in the briefing room in one hour for our next assignment. I do believe our breakfast is finished. If you will excuse me…" And with that, he left the Mess, not even bothering to give the doctor a proper salute of any kind, or even an optical acknowledgement. Anger was developing inside him so quickly that Spock didn't mind he'd left his tray on the table. He needed to meditate. _Now, _lest he wished to make a fool of himself in front of the entire crew he'd only known once. It was good that no one stood in between him and the turbolift, his feet were walking nearly on instinct and his mind was practically blind with the fumes of the unwanted Human emotions. When the turbolift doors shut around him, only then, did he allow himself to finally breathe.

…

No matter how hard he tried, a deep meditation eluded his grasp. Spock had managed to control the anger and tuck it away, bringing back a sense of strength and power to his Vulcan half, however, Spock could not lie to himself. It was illogical. He _had_ experienced anger, hatred, and jealousy all in one sitting—simply because Dr. McCoy was fearing of being caught and worse, hurting Jim. The doctor had been right to voice his concerns, Spock had needed to know them, but it didn't help bandage the wound McCoy had opened since this had all began.

"_You're just not Spock."_

Could it be true? Was he nothing more than a shadow of a universe that would never be again? _Dead man_. No. That couldn't be true. What was so different between him and his younger self? What was so different that when Jim kissed him it could have only been for his counterpart and not him? Was he not Spock? Was he not half-Vulcan and full of illogical pipe dreams of a dual-heritage? Did he not love his mother and mourn her death just as his counterpart had done? By that logic there was no difference! He _was_ Spock! The body made no difference, and their minds were so alike that only a select few could see him as his _katra_ was. Dr. McCoy was simply blinded by his Human emotions. Yes. Logical. His opinion on the matter couldn't be trusted, Spock deduced and nodded his head in physical approval.

However, though he told himself this truth and knew logically that he was Spock, had always been Spock, and would forever be Spock, somewhere in the back of his mind fluttered the smallest butterfly of doubt. It was the same doubt he had felt back on Gol before the _Kolinahr_ Masters almost granted him his logic and acceptance as a full Vulcan. Looking at the tiny butterfly, Spock was overcome with mental grief to crush it, and when he went to, he found the mental butterfly glowed a bright white and Spock stopped his mental self from crushing it. He instead hovered a ghostly mental hand over it and was surprised not to see flutter away in fright. Something told him not to crush it, but there was no way he could accept it. Despite wanting to end it's metaphorical life, Spock found himself blowing the butterfly away to the depths of his consciousness and bringing himself out slowly from his meditation. It had been light, so it took little strength, but Spock still wished it could have been deeper and with less imagery.

"I will crush you at some point." Spock warned the butterfly of doubt, noting how illogical it was to speak to something non-existent, "But today, I shall let you live."

…

Spock walked the corridors confidently. Since he managed even the slightest of meditation, he felt much better, and well rested compared to earlier. Though a little hungry, the Vulcan paid it no mind to complete his transit to the briefing room where he knew the captain, the doctor, the engineer, and the communications officer would be waiting. Their next mission had just arrived from Starfleet Command twenty hours previous and after glancing at its contents, the captain had told him and the others to be ready for a briefing. It was now the appointed time and Spock was anxious to learn what it was. Anything would be better than allowing him any more time to sit with his thoughts.

Upon arrival to the briefing room, Spock was brought to a halt when he noted that he and the doctor had managed to arrive at the same time. Neither one moved when they noticed the other, the doctor's Human features showing something equivalent to shame and uncertainty. Spock simply stood, placing his hands firmly behind his back and gracefully arched his brow in hopes either the doctor would say something or move. While standing there, Spock couldn't stop himself from feeling a bit of his own shame at his actions. His face gave a small flush. It was many moments before anyone spoke. It was not unexpected that McCoy began first.

"Listen," he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about what I said in the Mess this morning." Brown eyes kept themselves away from Spock's. "It doesn't matter if it was how I felt or not, it was—well, it was wrong. There's more than one way to skin a cat and I managed to do it the one _wrong_ way." Before he could continue, Spock held up his hand as a gesture of quiet.

"No apologies are necessary, Dr. McCoy." In all sincerity, the fact that the doctor pushed himself to apologize at all brought him a form of delight that quelled the silent anger into a faint ember.

"I swear to god, if your next sentence begins with 'Vulcans don't insert some Human illogical trait here', I'll wring your neck! It took a lot of my pride to apologize to you!" But Spock didn't say that, or even look as though he was going to imply it. After many more moments of silence, Spock allowed himself a small quirk of the lips as he leaned forward and whispered into the doctor's ear.

"You are a loyal friend of both universes, Leonard, and for that, I thank you." Bones' face was the lightest shade of red when the Vulcan pulled away, the doctor's eyes looking everywhere but at him. As if rubbing his ear would somehow make the whispered words disappear, McCoy brushed his head several times and nodded.

"Don't mention it." McCoy was left little recovery time since they both had a briefing to attend, so Spock bowed his head marginally to signal Bones he could enter first. After a second of deliberation, the doctor accepted and both entered the briefing room one after the other.

Upon entering, Mr. Scott, Lt. Uhura, and the captain were already present. The table was small but could hold six people, so the addition of Dr. McCoy and the new commander didn't make the seating arrangement tighter. Now together, Jim gave his best, professional smile and motioned for everyone to take a seat and ready themselves. As Spock sat, he suddenly felt a strange form of déjà vu, but blinked it away since he knew that he'd been in a setting like this many times and it would be illogical to think he wouldn't have to repeat some parts of his life over again. He was reliving his life through the virgin life of his counterpart. It was only logical.

Jim decided to begin and took from the table a dataPADD. "Alright, now that we're all here and all settled, let's begin, shall we?" Everyone turned their attention to him pointedly. "I've chosen all of you to come to this briefing for a reason, but I'll get to that in a moment. Let's begin with what Starfleet Command decided to shove on us this time." His smile was a good indication that the next mission was going to be something no one wanted to do, but obviously Starfleet had assigned it to them because they just happened to 'be in the area' again. The captain paced for a short moment, then started back up. "We're currently en route to a small star system in a neutral zone. In this star system is a Class M planet named Halkan, and Starfleet has set up negotiations with their high councilman Tharn to speak with us about mining rights. You see, the planet is rich in dilithium, and I do mean _rich_, so it's Starfleet's best interest that we negotiate with them before some other species walks along and finds this discovery. It could bring these peaceful people danger and Federation protection would be in their benefit." As the captain continued, Spock fell into thought. 'Halkan' sounded very familiar to him, like a little red flag was popping up in his mind to warn him of something he should remember. When he drew a blank, the Vulcan decided it was just a routine mission he had done once before and thought nothing of it. It was then Jim began to explain why he had chosen them specifically.

"Spock, I want you to remain here on the ship and run scans of the planet for Starfleet. Keep them up to date on just how much dilithium the Halkans can offer and give them an estimate on how much protection the planet could need."

Spock nodded in approval.

"The rest of you are going to join me in the landing party. Uhura's linguistics will allow us to make sure we don't absently flip them off; Bones' medical expertise may be needed since the planet is known for it's strange flora and airbourne toxins; and Scotty, you're just an awesome guy who can really help represent the Federation. Your knowledge in technology may also benefit them since they read to be primitive, and we can offer peace by establishing a solar generator for their people." Everyone appeared to be in agreement, though Spock still couldn't shake a strange feeling welling up inside him. "All we know is that the Halkans are unusually peaceful and may require a push into our direction, so stay alert, put on your friendliest smiles and be ready for beam down in four hours. Savvy?" Everyone nodded. "All data will be transferred to your personal dataPADDs for review. Dismissed."

All stood on cue to excuse themselves, except Spock. He remained in his seat for a few seconds longer than the others, drawing the ship's doctor's notice.

"Nervous?" He asked in a low voice. Spock shook his head minutely in reply.

"I am experiencing a small form of what you Humans term 'déjà vu'. I do believe I have done this mission before, but an important aspect of it eludes me." Bones shook his head and smiled.

"You probably have. Don't stress on it so much. I'm sure if it were anything terribly important you'd have remembered it by now. Relax, you look a little on edge." He indicated it by shaking his shoulder a little, but his hand was a little unsteady and the pat quick like he didn't want to be seen doing it. But it looked like he was seen anyway when Jim's worried brow moved to them.

"Everything okay?" The captain asked after Uhura and Scotty took their leave with curious eyes. He looked down at the Vulcan still sitting in the chair, his eyes showing worry and emotion.

"He's fine, Jim. His head's just giving him a little trouble. Headaches and whatnot." It was good the doctor had decided to lie for him, because Spock honestly didn't want to tell Jim that he was feeling a strange anxiety about their mission and explain it was because he felt he had done it before.

"I figured he wouldn't be ready for a beam down mission yet." Jim confirmed with an easy smile, one might even say was affectionate. "That's why I thought it'd be best to keep him on the ship for this mission. Don't want to over do it."

"Captain," Spock interrupted, "if you still believe me unfit for duty—"

"I don't think that, Mr. Spock." Jim told him quickly. "I know you and your Vulcan stamina could probably make you an invincible warrior, but with all the emotional stress you've been enduring since you've come back, I just don't want to see you emotionally compromised and find my neck appealing again." He winked and Spock felt himself barely flush. Though it hadn't really been him who had tried to strangle Jim, the thought of what the captain must have looked like struggling under his counterpart's grip, writhing for air and making the most beautiful, pleading faces quickly placed his thoughts towards the more eroticism of it. He gulped, he really shouldn't be thinking about such violent acts as sexually alluring. But something about seeing the great captain James Kirk writhe underneath him, pleading him to make their bodies and minds one… Spock quickly shut the mental door on it. This was not the time.

"Captain," Spock began again in a sensual voice that he immediately corrected, "I am Vulcan. I can assure you that I will not become emotionally compromised with any mission you assign to me."

"Great." Jim beamed with another large smile, pulling the Vulcan to standing by grasping his upper arm. "Then you'll have no trouble scanning Halkan for data." Their eyes caught when Spock was finally vertical. Jim's hand was still playfully around his upper arm, the heat of his skin seeping onto Spock's chilled body. He was uncertain how long they stood there like that since peering into those deep blue eyes was like the most intoxicating substance, but the other person in the room made it clear he was still around with a loud clearing of his throat. Jim instantly released him, blushing, and turned away.

"See you on the Bridge, Spock." He added under his breath and then nodded to the doctor before heading out of the briefing room. Spock internally sighed at the loss. For a moment, he had felt whole again.

…


	5. Chapter 5

Second Chances

Chapter Five

…

Of all the things Spock could remember, why couldn't he remember Halkan? He wasn't so old that his memory was slipping, and it couldn't have been so long ago that his mind would dismiss it. The thoughts sat like a pregnant pressure in his mind, but Spock would not give up. There was something important about this mission, something he needed to remember about it. He almost went to the computer banks to look up data on his previous missions, when he realized that it would be useless since the mission hadn't occurred yet in this time. It seemed he would just have to wait for the information to come back to him, and he hoped that it wasn't anything crucial.

Four hours went by slowly for Spock, mainly with all the thinking and data review of the mission he performed. It seemed tedious, since he'd looked over the data before, but he forced himself to do it several more times so if he was called for assistance down on Halkan, he would be prepared. However, with such little information on this peaceful species, Spock had to admit that if he was called down, there was probably nothing more he could contribute. The Halkans were terribly peaceful that not even his Vulcan strength would be needed. Briefly, he felt useless and conceded to the fact that perhaps it was best he was being left on board and in command.

They all met in the transporter room on time. The _Enterprise_ was currently in orbit around Halkan with the high councilman waiting below at a designated place for the landing party. It a matter of moments, the mission would begin and the race for the Halkan trust. Since Scotty was going down with the party, Spock stood behind the controls of the transporter pad and awaited the order to beam them down.

"This should only take a few hours at most, Spock." Jim told him as he set his communicator at his side. "But just in case, don't wait up for me." He offered with a wink and a beautiful Kirkian grin. Uhura looked at her captain, but said nothing. Bones just grumbled and Scotty snickered quietly to himself. As with his old habits, Spock appeared indifferent, gave the Vulcan equivalent of an eye roll and began the transporting system.

"Hey!" Jim said as he began to sparkle. "I didn't give the order yet!" His voice was playful and hiding laughter at Spock's duties.

"I will not wait up for you, Captain." He quipped back teasingly but still in his even tone. "May you all return safely." And with that, they slowly twinkled away. Small bouts of Scotty's laughter fading out with their atoms.

…

Spock knew that when the captain returned, he would no doubt have to talk with him about his non-protocol teasing, but it was a willing price to pay to show Jim that he was capable of himself and quite fit for duty.

The landing party was down on Halkan for many hours, with Jim sending updates on the hour as expected. But, with each transmission from Jim, it seemed the Halkans were a stubborn bunch and were on the brink of down right refusal of mining rights. His last transmission seemed to say it all when he told Spock to tell Starfleet Command that the Halkans appeared to be a lost cause and better diplomats should be sent. It was true that Jim had never been a very good diplomat, but if there was anyone who could possibly change the Halkans' minds, it was Jim Kirk. Spock knew this, and possibly Starfleet did too. He just hoped that this Jim Kirk had as much patience as the Jim he would one day grow up to be.

Sixteen hours had passed before Spock admitted to himself that he was bored. He had run the scans, sent all the data he could to Starfleet Command and was now waiting on further reports from the landing party. Surely something must have been negotiated by now? It didn't help him much that since he was bored, with no other further duties, that his mind trailed once again to the sense of déjà vu he was feeling. He'd done well to ignore it for the duration of the mission so far, but it was quickly becoming a lost cause. His curiosity was winning out. Spock became most thankful when his science station began an onslaught of beeping and blips. He promptly checked the station.

Data streamed across the panels, diagrams and numbers flooding over his vision rapidly. After a few moments, the Vulcan realized why the computer was beeping erratically. An ion storm had appeared coming from the west side of the planet. Though the readings told him it was a typical ion storm, he knew from experience that the storm could prove detrimental to their computer systems. He needed to inform Jim, but before he could make the call, the captain called first.

"_Kirk to Spock."_ Jim repeated. Spock answered quickly.

"Spock here."

"_A strange storm has appeared down here, do you have any report on it?"_

"My readings show it is a typical ion storm, Captain, but these storms are unpredictable and violent. I recommend immediate withdrawal of the landing party before it becomes too serious."

There was a small stifled chuckle on the other end. _"Don't worry about us, Spock. Get the ship out of the way and I'll prepare us for beam up. These negotiations seemed like a damned waste of time anyway. I'm sure the Halkans are seeing this storm as a blessing!"_

"As am I." Spock confessed with a stiff tone.

"_What? Getting bored up there, Spock?"_

"If by bored you mean that I would rather see you on the Bridge so I may continue with my projects, then yes."

Jim's laughter sounded really strange over the transmission. _"I get it. I get it. I miss you too, bro."_ he paused, allowing just enough time for Spock to force the blush away from his cheeks. Over the past three days, the repartee between them had been increasing and beginning to sound much like how Spock remembered their teasing years ago.

"_Four to beam up."_ Jim said at length. Spock acknowledged and contacted Lt. Kyle in the transporter room. After that, he ordered Sulu to maneuver the ship away from the storm. He was thankful to this storm as it would give something for everyone to do, but more importantly Spock was appreciative that this would give them some down time and possibly he and Jim could spend a little time together. Maybe a game of chess since they were getting on friendlier terms, or maybe a stroll through the ship's gardens? Spock was confident in himself that he could prove his love while at the same time remain a good friend. The ion storm really was a fortune.

Or at least, that's what Spock thought, until Lt. Kyle paged him on the Bridge.

"_Sir, the ion storm appears to be affecting the transporter equipment! I think you should come down here!"_ Those words were _dangerously_ familiar. The recollection of them practically a mirror of something he once recalled. Where had he heard that exact phrase from? Then it hit him…

…and it hit him _hard._ Spock jumped up from the command chair, startling most of the crew around him. "Mr. Sulu, contact Lt.-Cmd. Giotto and have him send six security officers to the transporter room stat." Sulu turned in his chair, confusion wrapped around his asian features.

"What for, Sir, if I may ask?"

"I do not have time to explain," the Vulcan told him as he entered into the turbolift. As the doors shut, he continued. "Have the other security ready the brig." A light 'aye, sir' was heard as the doors swished shut. The helmsman had sounded confused and certainly his actions had made the Bridge crew stare at him in awe, but Spock was left little time to think on the matter. Why hadn't he remembered before! The Halkans, the mission data, the ion storm! What a fool he was for not realizing it sooner! If he didn't get to the transporter in time and fix the calibrations, he was going to re-live a horrible dream and this time, he may not be able to get the captain back. _What worked in my time may not work here…_

The commander didn't care about the eyes that watched him make a quick run for the transporter room. He ignored them, passing by briskly, until the doors flew open to see a sweating Lt. Kyle and over heating transporter controls. Thinking quickly, Spock moved the lieutenant out of the way and took over, hearing the horrible whir noises as the landing party was trying to be beamed back up. Their figures blinked in and out on the transporter pad, and Spock felt a moment of panic envelope him. He hurriedly brushed his fingers over the controls and tried to reset the data, hoping this would correct for the ion storm, but to no avail. The transported pad gurgled and buzzed horrible sounds, sounds of engines and mechanics being overused and pushed to their limits. Then finally—_yes_—four figures materialized on the transported pad and right at the same moment, six security officers ran into the room. Phasers were drawn, confused eyes settling on Spock for his next command or lack thereof.

The figures on the pad blinked, stunned by the scene. They were whole, as far as Spock could tell, and all seemed normal. His blood pulsed in his ears, wondering if he had done it in time. Wondering if he had prevented the accident of his time. Jim studied him warily and stepped forward, a weak smile on his lips.

"This is quite a welcoming party, Mr. Spock." He said slowly, eyeing the bemused security men. "Or is this your formal resignation?" It appeared Spock had indeed caught them in time and had prevented the horrible happenings of what he and his previous captain called the 'mirrorverse effect'. In his time, during these same course of events, the exact same landing party had been caught in the ion storm and switched with their duplicates of another universe where they were darker, serving an empire, and barbaric in nature. It had taken much time and thought to bring his own crew back, and having the mirror versions of the officers he'd come to know as friends had been troubling. He was relieved to know he had saved this universe from their tyranny, and was willing to accept the consequences for his over-prepared nature. Had the same course of events taken place, he knew the security team would have been needed, but Spock was thankful this was not the case. Deciding it best, the Vulcan called off the security team and relinquished himself to the captain.

"I have no excuse for my actions, Captain." Spock told him evenly, switching glances with Dr. McCoy who would understand he was reacting to the feeling he felt earlier. Bones simply shrugged and looked away.

"Well, then," Jim began again, stepping off the transporter with the others following suit, "I'm sure you won't let it happen again but to be on the safe side, why don't you take the rest of the shift off?" Spock stared at him. So he was still worried about his health, and he had every right to be. He did just beam up his captain into what was probably the worst 'welcome back' ever. Thinking it best to do the order rather than fight with his urge to say he was still fit for duty, Spock conceded. It really was the only way to redeem himself after this atypical greeting.

"Of course, Captain." He hesitated when Jim gave a nod. The landing party then excused themselves and began out. After their lead, Spock internally sighed, thinking himself a fool, but proud that he'd taken precautions and prevented what would have been more detrimental to the ship than his pride. Later, when Dr. McCoy would undoubtedly ask what this had been all about, he would explain himself honestly and hope the good doctor would assure Jim he was fine and still fit for his duties.

…

_Dead man._

The room was dark, and no matter how many times he ordered for lights, none illuminated. Spock tried this a few more times before giving up, finding it illogical to continue asking for something that either had a malfunction or was completely broken. He sighed and walked aimlessly in the darkness.

Wherever he was had a large landscape. He must have walked for hours; his internal clock spinning like it had lost all sense of time. Spock didn't know how long he had been in the darkness or how far he had walked. He only felt an internal urge to keep walking, keep going. He brought himself to a halt when he could find no logical reason why he should tread in the darkness. Surely he would only loose himself and never get back to the _Enterprise_. He stood in thought for many moments. Where _was_ the _Enterprise?_

All directions shown darkness. Not even his keen Vulcan eyesight would allow him to see the ground beneath him. It was a ground, wasn't it? Or maybe it was a floor? Leaning down, the Vulcan investigated it only to discover his hand touched nothing and his feet where apparently walking on nothing. What was this illogical place?

Spock turned his head around again, trying to see anything in his path. Stark darkness surrounded him. Where was he? Where was anybody?

"_Captain?"_ His voice echoed, making the area seem bigger than he assumed it was. _"Doctor?"_ more echoes with his voice, and he was certain he wasn't imagining the panic laced within it. _"Someone? Anyone?"_ He turned violently now, panic overtaking his heart at his side, making it thump and cause him great fear. He was Vulcan! Why was his body submitting to these primal urges? Spock decided it best to calm himself before he continued. He stood, breathed, and tried to take control of himself, but his usual techniques did nothing to quell the fear wrapping his body and mind. His Vulcan experience meant nothing. He could not control himself.

_Dead man._

A sound behind him caused the Vulcan to stir. His body swished around on his heels as his eyes frantically searched the black. When the sound came from behind him again, he repeated the process only this time to see a small orb of light in the distance. It was so small that it couldn't possibly be any larger than a marble. Curious, Spock moved towards it, watching the tiny ball of light bounce up and down, float around and twirl. Distance closed and soon Spock found the small orb in his presence, bobbing in front of him like a Terran faerie.

Spock reached out his hand to touch the ball, but stopped short when wrinkly fingers extended. Using the small source of light, the Vulcan observed that he was back in his older body, naked, with soft white hair peppering his form just as he remembered it. He was old again? Though he had questions, Spock was certain the little ball of light would give him the answers and reached out again to the ball. The light stopped, hovered, and allowed the older fingers to pet it. It purred an unusual sound, glowed brighter, then exploded, causing the older Vulcan to turn his eyes away to prevent damage. After several seconds, he allowed himself to look again. In his ear chimed silent bells and in front of him fluttered a small, glowing butterfly. Each wing beat caused more bells to silently ring.

"_It is you."_ Spock said out loud, his voice a softer echo now. In reply, the butterfly flit around his head before going off in a different direction and pausing to look back at him, or at least he thought it was looking at him. _"Are you asking me to follow you?"_ He asked quietly. The butterfly bounced and twirled again, giving Spock's old heart a warmth he hadn't felt in a while. _"I will take that as a yes. But, how do I know I can trust you, butterfly of illogic?" _The butterfly of light only fluttered in one place, chiming its hidden bells before gliding to his head again and tugging a bit on his short, old hair. Spock allowed himself a small chuckle.

"_Alright, alright!"_ He answered and followed after the fluttering butterfly. The silent bells chimed wherever they went, echoing off on some distance surfaces as it led the way to something besides the constant blackness. It felt like an eternity. Following the strange lighted insect, Spock observed that the illumination it provided lit nothing. All around them was darkness, continually, and for what felt like many hours. It was like a beacon to something inside himself, but Spock did not known entirely how to interpret it. He didn't remember going into meditation or falling asleep, and why would a butterfly guide him on an alien planet he didn't remember beaming down to?

All thoughts were ceased when the butterfly shot off quickly in front of him, leaving him looming in the darkness. With heavy footsteps, Spock went after it, calling out for it to wait for him and to slow down, but it did not. He ran after it for a few more feet before the butterfly stopped completely, hovering over something dark. The shape was strangely humanoid, and Spock reacted quickly, dropping to the stranger's side.

There was not enough light to tell whom this person was, so Spock turned up to the hovering butterfly who must have read his thoughts, because it flittered down to coast in front of the stranger's face. Soft angled features lit up, along with dark raven brows, and perfectly straight cut hair that cupped and circled soft pointed ears.

It was Spock.

"_Spock."_ The elder said softly, brushing his bangs from his brows and noting the young boy was also naked. His flesh was dangerously cold to the touch so he brought the boy to his breast and tried to warm him. He felt eyelashes flutter against his cheek, so the elder pulled the young boy away to stare into absent eyes, but the eyes were closed.

"_Mother…"_ his younger counterpart groaned hoarsely, like his voice had not been used in years.

"_I am not our mother, Spock."_ He began quickly, settling the boy down on the ghostly floor. The butterfly chimed and flit above them.

"_Spock?"_ The younger boy asked.

"_Yes. It is your elder self. I am here now."_

"_I am… so cold…"_In response, the elder brought him back to his breast, rubbing his back and arms to stimulate warmth into the chilled body. The younger Spock began to shiver in his grip, Spock held him tightly. _"Why?"_ the counterpart asked, his body still trembling. _"Why am I alone?"_

"_You are not alone, Spock. I am here."_ Sobbing began quietly on his shoulder, cold hands running up the elder's back and causing him to flinch.

"_Alone. Alone. I am… so alone! Spock! Help me! I am alone! It is so dark! I am… afraid!"_ The elder's only reply was to hold his counterpart tighter, pulling him closer to halt the quivers.

"_I have you. You are never alone."_

"_I _hate_ you!"_ he shouted, his body falling slack in the older Vulcan's grip. The words startled Spock, making his hold falter. He brought the boy down again, laying him on the floor. His eyes were screwed shut, pain all over his features. Then, without warning, Spock began again. Shouting his hatred for the older Vulcan.

The older Spock took his shoulders, sensing the boy was having an uncontrollable nightmare. _"Spock! Open your eyes! You must open your eyes!"_

"_I… cannot. I… _hate_ you… I hate…cannot…"_

"_Please, Spock! Open your eyes!"_ He urged, but as before, Spock watched before his eyes the young boy's flesh fade to a gloomy dust, until what lied in front of him was nothing but a sand sculpture of the younger Vulcan he knew. Slowly it crumbled. An unknown breeze from all directions casting the sand away and blowing his counterpart to pieces. The wind howled in his ears like a monster, and Spock turned up to the butterfly who's bells began a strange, frightening toll.

"_What do you want!"_ Spock begged the insect through the wind, his voice lost in horrible howls. _"Tell me what I am—"_

Spock's eyes blinked open to the smell of smoke. His eyes searched the room to see that he was sitting in his quarters, the lights dimmed with the candles slowly going out around him, making puffs of smoke twirl in the room. His breathing was fierce, and his body sore as he pulled out his hands to study that they were young again. He was fully clothed in his meditation robe, the incense burning down to its last segment. It had been another nightmare, but this time during his meditation.

He ordered the lights to full luminosity and began to clean up around him. It must have been the third or fourth nightmare he had had. Every time he would see his younger self, and each time he would watch him dissolve into sand and blow away in crumbles. What did it mean? Could it have meant anything? What were they fighting over?

Looking up at the chronometre, Spock knew it was ship's night and everyone would be asleep. Dreams were not so unheard of on Vulcan, but reoccurring dreams were not the norm. He needed professional advice, or at least something to help him sleep tonight. With no other logical alternative, Spock cleaned the blank room and left his cabin for Sickbay.

…

Of course Dr. McCoy would be asleep. He had been a fool to think the good doctor would be in Sickbay. As much as he wanted to call upon his help, Spock understood that he had already asked for more than he should, and told the night nurses not to disturb him.

The newly younged Vulcan walked out into the corridors slowly, his stone features in place should anyone spot him, but his heart feeling heavy. What was this emotion? Guilt? Shame? A combination of both? Perhaps the dreams were his mind's way of taking sides with the doctor. He was uncertain and lacked appropriate data for any further conclusion. If Dr. McCoy was unavailable to assist him, Spock prescribed himself a small dose of midnight walking. Perhaps walking through the ship's botany gardens would help ease his tension and allow him to clear his thoughts. At least it would provide more peace than his counterpart's quarters had offered. He dare not go back in there after the horrible visions of his meditation.

Decided, Spock took the turbolift down into the ship's depths to the botany garden far below. It was a simulated garden full of many species of plants to help crewmen feel more at home while warping through space. In his study of the ship, it read that this was more for the benefit of the Humans since no other species had shown signs of space crazies. His previous _Enterprise_ had had a botany garden as well, but this was read to be thirty percent larger and said to house many native plants from several species. Categorizing the different flora might be enough to distract him, Spock thought, and suddenly this trip became one of scientific intent.

He had just about reached the automatic doors when the door that led down to engineering swished open. It was normal for the late night crews to be running about, but Spock looked up anyway to the late-shift worker only to be surprised to see the captain. Like a deer caught in headlights, Spock froze, placing his hands behind his back and standing firmly.

"Good evening, Captain." He said sharply. Jim gave a double take before he gave a smile, which looked almost a little forced.

"Spock," he began, "I didn't expect to see you here, so late, and all alone. You are alone, aren't you?" His grin turned mischievous. "Unless you and Uhura and doing some late night hide-and-go-seek." Years of being with Jim was more than enough to find the stretch for the innuendo the captain was reaching for.

"I am alone." Spock told him flatly. "And rest assured, Lt. Uhura and I will not be playing any late night activities that you are insinuating."

"Oh?" He asked while stepping forward, covering up a yawn. "So the rumour's true then? You and her really broke up?" Spock inclined his head marginally. The features on the captain's face turned from playful to serious.

"I'm sorry, Spock." He offered quickly, looking away. "I thought it was just another fake rumour. I didn't know it had held any real truth."

"There is no need to apologize."

"Yes there is." Jim snapped suddenly, catching his attention. "You've been through so much… I figured she would have been the one to help you again, like before with your mother. I didn't know you were taking on all this alone." Blue eyes peered back up into his dark one. "Is that why you came to the garden?" Spock couldn't tell him the truth, so he opted to remain silent and let the captain form his own reasons. Jim turned his head away and sighed.

"Captain, if I may ask," Spock started, "is there a reason you are present here too? Both of us work Alpha shift and must wake up early. Humans require more sleep than Vulcans and you should be asleep right now." Jim laughed.

"It seems we're both up past our bed time." He smiled. "But," it felt like he was searching for words, but Spock waited for him to continue. "I was just up thinking. I couldn't sleep."

"Thinking?" Spock casually asked.

"Yeah. I was thinking about the Halkans and Starfleet, and then…" he trailed off, turning slightly away. Spock hesitated and waited. "Spock," he began again, like he was fighting some unknown force in his throat, "never mind." He quickly shrugged off and started down the corridors. Spock stood there, perplexed at the statement. It seemed that the captain had more to say, so logically, Spock called out to him. If Jim felt he couldn't speak openly with him, then how was he supposed to prove his love?

"Cap—Jim." The captain stopped, but did not turn around. "Would you mind taking a walk with me through the botany garden?" He paused but Jim didn't turn around. "I have discovered I do not wish to do it alone." The captain turned slowly and smiled weakly at him.

"Are you sure? Bones'll kill us if he finds out we're shirking our sleeping hours." Spock fell back on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands and standing tall and confident.

"I am certain, Captain. Though I said I would not wait up for you, it appears that I have done just that." A twinkle appeared in Jim's eye meeting with a beautiful smile. The captain took a few steps forward, looked up at him, then opened the botany garden's doors and entered, Spock on his heels. It would be a long night.

…

It was just like old times. Spock felt at ease with the captain, looking at vegetation and the pseudo-moon above them. A light generated breeze met them every now and then, making the walk enjoyable without the restricting chill or heat of typical foliage settings. As they walked on the marked paths, the Vulcan couldn't help himself but to remember all the times in the past he'd done this with Jim and now—looking at the captain with him again—he could do it all over again. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say, or the things he'd always meant to say. He could relive and resolve the mistakes of his own life to benefit his counterpart's. He had already taken the first step by admitting his unVulcan love for the strong Human, and now…

The night was long, but Spock permitted himself to enjoy the closeness of their friendship that in five months, one week, four days, and six hours, could become something more. Looking into the beautiful crystal blue eyes illuminated by the moonlight, Spock knew he was in love and would always be with this man. This Human. His _t'hy'la._ Six months could not come to its end soon enough.

They came to a sudden stop when Jim let out a small intake of breath. Spock turned to him and saw that a small bush of thorns had caught Jim's sleeve and torn it, cutting his delicate skin underneath. They both looked at the tiny scrape, but it was the captain who filled the silence with his laughter.

"Wouldn't you know it, Spock?" He asked playfully, displaying his tiny tear and cut. "It's like I'm allergic to Starfleet uniforms too—I always seem to tear them up at the most inconvenient of times." He laughed. "Maybe I should start going topless!"

Spock held back the blush that formed from the mental image. "I do not think Starfleet Command would appreciate such a breach in their uniform code."

Jim snorted. "Starfleet Command thinks I'm the very _definition_ of breach." One raven brow arched.

"You do have unusual methods in substitution for standard protocol." Jim laughed again, causing Spock to mentally smile.

"Of course you'd take _their side_, Spock! You damn Vulcan!" He continued to chuckle, Spock observing the playful grin, beautiful pearly teeth, and the crinkled features of a happy man. He must have been staring longer than he thought, because the captain slowed his laughter to breaths of air and looked at him noticeably.

"What?"

"I find your laughter… pleasing."

Jim smiled, blushed a little, though it was hard to tell in the pseudo-moonlight, and cleared his throat. "I suppose someone has to." He muttered under his breath. Then he sighed and turned away. "I'm sorry, Spock."

What was there to be sorry for? "I do not understand." Jim turned back again to him.

"You're still not recovered entirely, you recently broke up with your steady girlfriend, and here I am laughing!" Jim hesitated. "You probably haven't heard a lot of laughter lately and for good reason. I'm sorry I'm being so selfish." The captain was worried about him, still second-guessing and fretting over the tiniest details that to Spock didn't matter. His hands moved quicker than his thoughts, and before Spock could reign back in his actions, they were on Jim's shoulders and moving steadily north to his neck. Then to his chin. Then to his cheeks. He held Jim's head in his palms, putting pressure on his cheekbones to make the blue eyes look at him. They glimmered in the moonlight so magnificently that he, for a moment, forgot the moon was not real.

"Jim," he nearly breathed when the Human in his grasp shown no signs of discomfort, "in all my years, I have never met a more selfless man… than you." Blue eyes fluttered and tried to turn away, but Spock held his head in place.

"That's a lot to say when we've only worked together for two years."

Spock gazed into his eyes deeply, not looking away even to blink. "It feels like an _eternity_." It wasn't a lie. It was never a lie. Every moment with Jim did feel like an eternity, and Spock welcomed it. He would prove it. "Jim…" The Vulcan couldn't stop himself. He knew what he was doing was wrong and went against his promise, but the moment was so perfect. It called for it and it appeared Jim knew it too. Slowly Spock leaned down, their lids becoming heavy with every inch, until finally their eyes slid shut and soft lips met open, willing lips.

At first it was soft, gentle, virgin. Then Jim moved his warm hands to Spock's and massaged them soothingly, leading his touch down his arms and leaping to his flanks. The Vulcan's hands, too, drifted downward until his palms rested on the beautiful Human's shoulders, squeezing slightly, urgently. Before long, both had tugged the other and their bodies met breast against breast. Jim's smaller, warmer body felt so good to Spock's taller, cooler frame.

Their lips never parted, moving from gentle to rough as Jim opened his mouth, encouraging the Vulcan to lick inside across a playful tongue and smooth teeth. It was intoxicating! The taste of Jim was too sweet to stop, and it looked like Jim's hands were in agreement of the tenderness with their harsh tugs on his flanks and then a tight grip on his bottom, pulling their groins together obscenely. Spock's hands dropped in response, searching to grasp and grab at the other man's body and landing on his back. One hand caressed him between the shoulder blades while the other lingered seductively on his rear.

With such little breath passing between them, it was only a matter of time before they were forced apart to sustain their lives. Both heaved, gasping for air, and dazed longingly into the other's heavy-lidded stare.

Then slowly, Jim began to pull away and Spock did also. Their arms returned to their sides and their bodies were no longer flushed against the other. Neither looked away ashamed, but both understood that this wasn't the time for it. There was still much time for Spock to 'heal' and decide if he really wanted Jim or Uhura. Though Spock knew he wanted Jim, he couldn't break the promise so early and frighten away the very man he sought, though, that did appear that was what he had just done.

"Forgive me." Spock nearly whispered and was surprised by his own lack of breath. Jim rebounded like a pro and turned all smiles.

"We both slipped. It's no problem." He paused and touched his lips absently, then flicked his smile back into place. "Wanna continue our walk?" Spock offered a nod, thankful that this man wouldn't hold a minor slip against him, and started off again. It was almost like the kiss had never happened, though deep down, Spock wished he could do it again. _All in good time._ He reminded himself. _All in good time._

It was close to 02:00 when both decided to part ways for a restful night of sleep. They had circled the entire botany garden, talking about their missions new and old, most with details he had never known and varied from his own experience without even a mention of their small falter. It had been pleasant. Spock almost admit sadness to see it end so soon, but when the alarm clock buzzed and the clock showed 06:00 they would once again be men of uniform. Duty called for them and this between them would once again be under lock and key. It was similar to how it was in his universe and Spock began to wonder if his own Time's captain might have been in love. They hardly ever took chances to allow their friendship to be seen so greatly during their five-year mission. It wasn't until Jim became an admiral that he dared to show it more boldly.

But that was a different past.

Now standing in front of the very doors of the commander's cabin, Spock knew it would never be the same as before, but he wasn't saddened by that notion. For who could love a past full of 'I-never-dids' and 'I-should-have-dones'? With what he did tonight, he really was living a dream of a past's long ago.

Once again, he thanked his counterpart and let the doors open around him and close tightly behind.

…

The new Vulcan commander couldn't sleep, so when the red alert sounded, he only had to pull himself from his light meditation. The alert blared in his ears, stinging them with its howl until it softened from familiarity. He rushed, or rushed as much as a cool, collected Vulcan would, out the door and into the corridors where he saw other crewmen darting from their cabins. What was going on? As far as he knew, they were still in the Neutral Zone above Halkan, unless they had strayed into Klingon territory by mistake, which was an illogical stretch since the ship was typically on autopilot for the skeleton crew.

A huge _BOOM_ was followed by a fierce shake that forced Spock tumbling to the floor. The lights went out, then the emergency ones initiated. Something was terribly wrong. Spock promptly picked himself up from the floor and steadily made his way for the Bridge. He passed many crewmen but all seemed as confused and as lost as he was to whatever was going on, so he didn't bother asking anyone what the red alert was for. As soon as he made it to the Bridge, he would know.

But Spock wouldn't make it to the Bridge. As he descended the halls to head for the turbolift, Spock caught a sound behind him that sounded vaguely threatening and as he turned to see who was so close behind him, a hard object crashed over his head in just the right way to daze him and force him to the ground in minor unconsciousness.

He could hear muffled talk with the muffled red alert, and then his body felt weightless. He knew he was being carried, but could hardly move himself with the blunt blow of the attack. Whoever had struck him knew exactly where to aim for, that or they had been extremely lucky. But with logic in place, it was more likely the intruder knew where to aim and now Spock was aware that there were enemies aboard the _Enterprise, _whether they were mutineers or the unfathomable thought of the Halkans.

…

When the Vulcan woke, his skin prickled in disinfected, chilled air and knew by the smell and bright lights he was in Sickbay. Well, at least whoever had struck him didn't carry him off as a prisoner—or maybe the entire red alert had been cleared up? He couldn't hear the sirens anymore, and the lights were back to normal. Blinking blearily, Spock brought himself back to consciousness.

Dr. McCoy was the first sight he saw when his vision cleared. "That was quite a hit." The doctor commented, placing something cold on Spock's head. "I'm surprised you're awake!"

Spock tried to sit up and managed only to bring himself up on his elbows. "I am Vulcan, Doctor." He reminded him, almost teasingly. "What would be a bed-ridden blow to a Human is only a minor scratch to a Vulcan." Bones rolled his eyes and mumbled accordingly. The commander took that moment to observe his surroundings. "What was the nature of the crisis? Is Jim on the Bridge?"

"Hell if I know, but I'm going to assume so." Bones bit at him. "It seems we were hit by a mysterious starship with a cloaking device."

"Romulans? Out here?" Spock asked as he fully sat himself up.

"Romulans?" Bones echoed. "Where in the hell did you get that crazy idea? The Romulans aren't technologically advanced for the weapons that took out our left engine! I'd say we're up against something more powerful than that! Say an elite team or something." Spock removed himself from the medical bed and ascertained his own injuries. All appeared to be in order.

"The Halkans are peaceful, Doctor, and would not have created whatever is currently attacking us. The only other known species with advancements such as what you are describing would be the Romulans or the Klingons, and at this current stardate, the Romulans will not create and test their cloaking device for another decade."

Bones eyed him quizzically. "What are you talking about?" The Vulcan began to re-dress himself in his uniform, ignoring the doctor's illogical question since he understood Spock was from the future and knew this shit like no one's business.

"Dr. McCoy, since I have the upper hand in advanced species technology, perhaps you should trust my judgment on the matter." Bones circled him to catch his attention.

"Now you listen here, you green-blooded asshole! You're starting to sound crazy again! Do you want another repeat of what happened in the transporter room earlier today?"

Spock paused. "That was a precaution to hopefully prevent events which had occurred in my Time. I have reason to believe I succeeded." With that, Spock pushed pass the doctor and began his way out. He needed to get to the Bridge to figure out who this unknown enemy was. Jim was probably expecting him. Bones stopped him abruptly by grabbing his arm. Spock looked at the offending touch then peered heavily at McCoy.

"Oh no you don't! Where do you think you're going?"

"The captain is undoubtedly expecting me on the Bridge. Time is of the essence, Doctor." McCoy tugged on him to the point he managed to pull him back into the room. "Dr. McCoy," Spock began again, trying to stop the man from dragging him back, "though I managed to bring back the landing party safely from Halkan without repeating events, there is still a chance that the ion storm is affecting the interlocking universes and causing a disruption in the space-time fabric. Our enemy may be from that universe." The doctor stopped long enough to allow Spock to finish. "But I will not be able to confirm this theory while squabbling with you in Sickbay."

"My God," Bones began, searching him with a look of disgust, "you're crazier than I thought! Spock, you're not going to the Bridge! Jim can handle it from here and you just need to get your ass back in bed!" The Vulcan felt the tug on his arm, but had stopped completely along with his heart. He didn't move an inch, the doctor's tugs now seeming useless against his superior strength. "Spock!" the human growled like he was berating a very bad puppy. When the Vulcan refused to move, Dr. McCoy threw his arm back to his side and huffed. "Alright, Spock, let's talk logic. Maybe _that_ will get you to back in the bed. Is it _logical_ for someone with your illness to be on duty? You're here spitting out crazy talk like it's going out of style and you think you're _mentally ready_ to be back on duty?" He waited. "I don't think that sounds very logical, do you?"

Spock took a step back into Sickbay cautiously. Now he understood. "No, Doctor, it does not sound very logical. I believe you are correct." He let the doctor lead him back to the medical bed. "I do believe I am still quite ill."

"Thanks for seeing it my way." He grumbled, keeping a wary eye on him. Spock walked increasingly, willingly, also watching the doctor but saying nothing. McCoy grumbled again, then lifted the sheets for the Vulcan to slip back in, and while his back was turned, Spock made his move. Quickly, he grasped McCoy by his shoulders and flung him across the room, crashing him into several pieces of equipment. He barely recovered.

"Spock! What in the _hell_ is wrong with you!" Instead of an answer, the Vulcan was quick to the doctor's feet and grabbed him tightly again, this time around his throat while he slammed the weaker Human on the wall. McCoy struggled in his grip, trying to fight him off. They wrestled around the room for some time, thrashing limbs knocking over equipment and causing quite a scene. Their fight was brought to a halt when Spock managed to grip his throat tightly to pin him five inches up on the wall. He stared hard into the doctor and wasn't surprised to see no fear.

"I'll get you for insubordination if you don't release me and get your sick ass back in bed!" He shouted barely through clenched teeth and struggling breath.

"You can not do that, Doctor, as I am certain Starfleet will not take orders from those who serve an _Empire_."

…


	6. Chapter 6

Second Chances

Chapter Six

…

Brown eyes went wide in disbelief and then they settled darkly on the Vulcan. The doctor looked angry, angrier than he'd ever seen his own Dr. McCoy, but the face was very reminiscent of an unfortunate mirror counterpart Spock had dealt with many years ago.

"How do you know this?" He questioned harshly, biting, struggling against his captor, "We were told all you Vulcans worked the same! You have to mind meld to read to our thoughts!"

"That is correct." Spock confirmed, making his grip a little tighter to remind him he was also stronger than the Human.

"Then how…?" Spock decided it would be the most horrible idea to let him know that he was Elder Spock in his younger counterpart's body, so he opted for the partial truth and the one part that had been the mirror doctor's downfall.

"You called me Spock." He lowered the man slowly to the floor, but kept his grip firm. The evil doctor scoffed.

"That's your name, isn't it?"

Spock inclined his head. "Correct, however, ever since we returned from New Vulcan, Dr. McCoy has evaded all times in which to use my name, instead refraining from its use and using distasteful terms. I know why he does this and I have reason to believe that you do not. Your research had potential. It is a shame that it did not work." McCoy laughed at him, not even bothering to struggle anymore.

"We'll see about that, pussy Vulcan. In my universe, fuckers like you don't last long. We're brutal, we'd kill our own wives if it meant more power. You alone don't stand a chance against us! At least, not without your _captain_."

A million thoughts buzzed through Spock's head then. If this McCoy was from the mirrorverse, then that meant the entire landing party had been from the mirrorverse, which also meant—oh no—that the man Spock had entrusted and kissed hadn't been his captain, but an imposter! No! That couldn't be true!

"That's right, you faggot." McCoy clipped. "While you were getting 'friendly' with the 'captain', we were setting you up. He's a pretty good distraction, don't you think?" Spock glared at him knowing anger was once again rising in his throat. "We studied well; we're almost as good as the _real thing_. Or at least real enough to fool your pussy universe into thinking we were your counterparts." Anger was becoming an understatement. "And now, _Spock_, what are _you_ going to do about it? If we were good enough to fool you, the _logical Vulcan_, what makes you think anyone is going to believe your findings? What's to stop us from taking over _your lives?_"

Another harsh _BOOM_ vibrated through the ship, making Spock lunge forward and then to the side, forcing him to release the evil Dr. McCoy to keep himself from colliding with the storage cabinets. The Vulcan turned to get a grip back on the doctor, but the smaller Human was quicker, rushing to the doors and signaling for help.

"Security! _Security!_ Spock's out of his Vulcan mind in here! Get me security!" Spock got up from the floor and tackled him. He hated using such primitive techniques to battle, so he tried to end it the best, quickest way possible—with a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. He raised his hand for the pinch throughout their stru ggle, but just as his fingers brushed the imposter doctor's nape, three security men came on to the scene and hurriedly parted them, placing restraints on Spock's wrists and keeping his legs bowed so he couldn't run. There was no point in fighting against them as it would only assist the imposter in his lies. The Vulcan reluctantly gave in to the treatment and allowed them to restrain him.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Came the soft voice of Nurse Chapel. She looked tired, as though she hadn't gone to bed yet, but her eyes burst open at the sight of Spock in security restraints.

"It's Spock's trauma again. He's become a danger to not only himself, but everyone. Give him a sedative, Nurse, and then make sure he gets locked up in the brig where he can't hurt anyone." Chapel's features twisted into confusion.

"But, Sir, wouldn't it be better to place him in one of the solitary confinement medical rooms?"

"Brig, Chapel." He snarled at her. "He's not Human and he'd be able to break out of the medical rooms with his ungodly Vulcan strength. The brig is better suited for his type."

She still appeared confused. "Yes, of course, Doctor." Spock watched from his restrained position as the evil McCoy smiled and left Sickbay. He was more than likely going to meet the imposter captain on the Bridge to alert him of Spock's knowledge. Though McCoy had won this round, it still left questions in his mind. Why had the mirror counterparts studied their universe? And how? What was the point of masquerading in this universe? To blow up the _Enterprise?_ To take over? He was left little time to think of logical answers when Nurse Chapel ordered the security men to hold him steady for a sedative injection. She raised the hypo steadily with concern and weary in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock. It's for your own safety."

"Nurse Chapel," he practically blurted before the hypo could meet his flesh, "do not administer that hypo. You are making a mistake." He managed to grab her curious attention, but just barely. "Dr. McCoy is not who he says he is. He is an imposter!"

"An imposter?" She asked.

"Yes." Spock breathed. "When the landing party was beamed up from Halkan, interference with the transporter equipment along with the ion storm caused a temporary rip in the space-time fabric, opening a hole that switched the entire landing party with their evil counterparts from another universe." She looked skeptical. She had ever right to be. He did sound crazy to inexperienced ears.

"But, _you_ beamed them aboard, Sir." She said slowly. "If that was true, why didn't you have security throw them in the brig?" Spock went to speak but found he had nothing to say. He couldn't lie, but he couldn't tell her the truth either. He was at a standstill. A very illogical standstill.

Nurse Chapel smiled warmly and pat his shoulder. "After some rest you'll feel right as rain." He admitted it. Spock panicked.

"I did not throw them in the brig then because the imposters had fooled me into believing they were not imposters." His words were normal with a slight upbeat in speed, which for a Vulcan, was pretty panicked. "They fooled me just as they are now fooling you." Nurse Chapel searched his eyes, flitting between them over and over, even as Spock begged her to believe him. However, after many moments, Chapel had come to her conclusion and gently set the hypo against his arm. He heard it hiss as the sedative leaked into his system and slowly his vision began to blur again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock."

…

A harsh blow struck his face. Spock didn't open his eyes until another blow hit him on the opposite cheek.

"Wake up, lover boy!" The tone was familiar, but Spock couldn't bring himself to believe it. It couldn't be. It was another dream! It had to be! The last strike was hard enough to make Spock bite his tongue and taste the coppery blood. He looked up to his tormentor and was internally upset that his logic had been true. This was real and the voice was who he assumed it to be.

Captain James Kirk, imposter, stood in front of him along with Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott, and Lt. Uhura. The landing party. He hadn't prevented the dreaded mirrorverse effect at all. Spock had only made it worse! If only he had realized it sooner! Whatever torture they inflicted upon him, Spock felt he deserved every bit of it for not remembering soon enough and truly preventing the tyranny of the mirrorverse. But the next hit didn't come, and the Vulcan knew it was only a matter of time before they perceived him as a threat and killed him. _I will be joining you soon Spock…_

The same soft hands that had caressed him in the botany garden pulled him up by his uniform tunic to stand. It was a little awkward since Spock was still in restraints and had no mobility of his arms and hands. He felt like an animal.

"Bones tells me you figured us out." The not-Jim said bitterly. "I must admit, Vulcan, that ever since we beamed into your universe, I knew you'd be trouble. You had us scared with the security team, but we sure fooled you, didn't we? It's too bad, too. I would have liked to have made you my personal bed slave." McCoy cut in with a growl.

"What's stopping you, Jim? He already knows too much! I say we throw him into our universe and get this bucket to the nearest starbase for repairs. We're limited on time and framing the Halkans is going to take a lot of work!"

Spock raised a brow delicately. "Is that what this is about? You are here to frame the Halkans?" The imposter Jim nodded then shook his head.

"Partly. But our plan is more extensive than you give us credit for, Mr. Spock. Part of our plan did count on using you as a main pawn, but since you've proven your worthlessness, I'm left no choice but to either kill you or abduct you."

"But why?" Spock asked. "Why Halkan? Why impersonate us? And what have you done to the _Enterprise?_" The imposter captain stroked his cheek and offered a beautiful smile that Spock couldn't believe he fell for.

"Don't worry, my strong, handsome Vulcan. We'll look after the _Enterprise_ for you." Smooth fingers laced into his hair and pulled hard enough to make a grimace on Spock's face. Then in one harsh swing, he was thrown back down on to the brig cell floor. "Call Commander Spock and tell him to get ready for transport. It seems we're going to need him after all." He chuckled while staring down at the Vulcan. "Oh, and do tell him to _shave_ before he comes over. No need to scare the already pussy-whipped crew." Three 'aye, sirs' were heard and each one left the brig cell one by one. The horrible shadow of the prison bars cast over him like a cruel fate and Spock realized in that moment there was nothing he could do. He had failed. Failed the mission, failed his universe, failed Jim. Killing him would be an act of mercy, Spock knew, but they weren't going to do that. Whatever their plans, he was sure they needed him alive for something or they would have done it already. The only question was, what?

…

Escorted by Lt. Uhura and Dr. McCoy, Spock was taken from the brig and led to the transporter room. Passing crewmen appeared to be too busy with their duties from an 'attack' to notice them let alone the phaser that was jabbed into Spock's back at just the right place to be near his heart. They walked in silence, the Vulcan steady with his steps and moving as little as he could. A few times Uhura had to thrust the phaser into his back to remind him to keep moving, and Spock did, as dignified as he could.

"Lt. Uhura, is your first name Penda?" he asked randomly, giving both the imposters a start.

"What the fuck kind of name is that?" She responded. Okay, that was an obvious no then.

"I was just curious. My trauma has left me confused memories and I only wished to know why I thought your name was Penda. Am I led to believe your real name is just as lovely?" The sweet talk only got him another harsh thrust in the back.

"My name," she started with a harsh voice grating on his ears, "is of no importance to you, Vulcan."

"On the contrary," Spock began again, "I do believe I am entitled to at least know the name of my captors."

"Just tell him so he'll shut the fuck up, Nyota!" The doctor snarled up front. The woman he now knew as Nyota bit back at him.

"Great, Bones! Why don't you tell him the code to the agony booth too while you're at it!"

"Shut up, woman, it's just your damn name." That was more than enough, apparently, to spawn an argument that Spock hadn't predicted. In all honesty, he had just wanted to know Nyota's name, but this… this was fascinating. And useful. An argument stirred enough that they caught attention of some passing crewmen, but not nearly enough to help with Spock's impromptu plan. He needed to get them to argue just a bit more to cause a great enough distraction. If he could free himself from them before they got to the transporter room, make it to the Bridge and close off the turbolift access, he could use the entire ship as ransom to find out what the mirror imposters wanted and possibly figure out where the real landing party was. He was uncertain if they were still alive at this point, but it was a chance he had to take. He could thank his previous captain for teaching him how to do unVulcan things even with Vulcan logic.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. McCoy, but Nyota has a valid argument." That got him a sideways glance from the doctor and what sounded like a disgruntled growl. "I could have heinous plans to use by knowing her name. I could have made my whole 'trauma' story up for my own benefit and be playing you both right now."

"You wouldn't dare." Nyota seethed from behind him, pressing the phaser into him harder. That brought them to an unexpected stop. McCoy frowned and sneered.

"Don't listen to him." He barked, "this is the pussy universe, remember? Here, Vulcans don't lie. He's obviously trying to play us right now." Nyota appeared confused and switched glances between the doctor and the Vulcan.

"Then wouldn't that make what he just said a lie?"

"Yes." McCoy confirmed.

"But you said I couldn't lie." Spock interjected.

"Is that true?"

"Yes." Spock said again.

"See," imposter Bones started, "he's not a liar."

"But you _just said_ he _was_ lying!" Nyota shouted. The doctor stopped and paced for a moment.

"No. He can't lie because he's a Vulcan, so whatever he said before was false, so don't believe him."

"That didn't even make any _sense!_ So should we believe him or not?"

"No." Spock added almost playfully.

"But he can't lie, so does that mean he isn't playing us?" Nyota asked.

"Yes." Spock added.

"Wait, wait," McCoy interrupted, "Yes you aren't playing us, or yes you're lying?"

"Oh!" Nyota growled, "You're switching words around, you stupid witch doctor! He _can_ lie and he did right there!"

"No, I did not." Spock told them flatly.

"You did!" Nyota argued.

"Vulcans _can't_ lie here!" McCoy barked at Nyota, removing Spock from her grip so he could get a grip on her shoulder. She didn't seem to like that and snarled at him, instead training the phaser on the doctor. As the arguing heated up, both were too set on each other to notice as Spock slowly slipped away. He moved quickly, quietly, and began down the hall in a race for the turbolift.

He had managed to get a twenty-second head start before he heard Uhura and McCoy behind him shouting at each other for loosing him.

Now was the chase.

Spock heard McCoy call out for someone to stop him and surely there were some passing crewmen who looked startled to see their first officer running around like a school yard hooligan. He paid them no mind, running by briskly to get to the turbolift. As it came closer to his sights, Spock was brought to a halt when he heard an announcement over the intercom.

"_Commander Spock is unstable and a hazard to all hands on deck. All personnel are ordered to capture and restrain Commander Spock and report him to the brig immediately."_

Fascinating.

The turbolift doors were in plain view, even as crewmen looked on to him with perplexing eyes. He was almost there! He just had to get down the hall! Spock's feet came to a skidding stop just before the turbolift when the doors opened to reveal five security officers waiting for him. Almost as if on cue, Spock changed directions and decided he'd detour to engineering and find a way to get to the Bridge via the emergency chutes. The only problem was, he still couldn't use his hands since their were restrained in a heavy, sturdy, metal that required a key to remove and unlock. It would take a miracle, or maybe some illogical luck, but Spock would have to find a way to utilize the chutes without the use of his own hands. This was not very logical.

Now with an alert for his capture, Spock was evading more officers than he thought possible. It was a good thing they were under 'attack' or more officers would have been readily available.

Three officers managed to blockade him into taking another detour, and then two more forced him to backtrack and force his way through the other three. It was difficult to do, but not nearly as hard since these officers didn't want to harm their superior. Once turning the corner, Spock raced down to engineering but stopped suddenly when he saw two officers whom he was very familiar with. Nurse Chapel and Dr. M'Benga were standing between him and the doors to engineering. Both looked dangerously worried and holding hypos which he assumed were full of sedatives. Now with some familiar faces, Spock took a moment to breathe.

"Please," Spock began, "let me through."

"Take it easy, Mr. Spock," Dr. M'Benga stated slowly, "you've been under a lot of pressure and a lot of stress lately. Any Vulcan would crack under that!"

"I will ask you again to step aside." Spock ordered in an even tone, but neither nurse nor doctor moved.

"Mr. Spock, please, you're ill!" Nurse Chapel cried.

"I am not ill." Spock declared fully. But the words fell on deaf ears as the nurse and doctor began to close in on him. Right at that moment, he heard the imposter Nyota shout 'there he is' and behind him was the coming security officers and the mirror counterparts. They were closing in fast, and Spock had nowhere else to turn.

Spock kept himself equally apart from the forces—but then something caught his eye. On his right was a trash chute that would lead to the recycler below. He could be killed and the chute was _just_ big enough to maybe let him slide through, but did he really have any other choice? They loomed over him, almost causing another form of panic to escalate into his mind, and then—he jumped! Diving head first into the trash chute and being missed by grabbing hands.

He slid down and down, hitting his head and feeling slightly claustrophobic as the trash chute closed in around him. In six metres he would reach the recycler and be taken apart atom by atom. The realization forced him to use his legs and stretch them out as far as they could to stop him from falling, they caught on something and Spock slid to a halt, the heat from the recycler burning his face like being too close to a fire pit.

Okay, so now what?

Spock thought long and hard but found no alternatives. The recycler would instantly kill him, and if he went back the way he came, the others would capture him. The Vulcan looked around the tiny, silver chute and thought again. What else could he do? What would Jim do? Peering ahead, the idea suddenly came to him. All chutes led to the same recycler, and if he could slide down just enough to get to one of the other ducts, he could use his legs to force his way back up and out one of the other trash chutes. But it was risky. If he got too close to the recycler—which the chutes were already very close—it could all be over. Making up his mind, Spock released his feet and slid down the chute further, looking and hoping for another opening duct soon, the heat intensifying around him.

He fell quickly, but stopped himself again when he saw an upcoming chute. He was already too close to the recycler and without the use of his hands this was going to be difficult. Much like a worm, Spock angled his body the best he could and used his legs to help force him into the turn and wiggle into it. The heat was immense, so much he felt like he was sitting in the Vulcan desert in the middle of their summer. But Spock didn't give up; he pushed and pushed, and wiggled as much as he could until his legs fell free from the other chute and dangled out as he used his upper shoulder strength to support himself. It was a lot harder than he thought it would be and for a brief moment visualized himself falling into the recycler and disappearing forever. He shook the image from his mind and replaced it with the image of the real landing party sitting on the _ISS Enterprise_ waiting for him. The thought of Jim alone was enough to give him the extra strength he needed to use his shoulders and force his way up, using whatever leverage he could around him to help. After much struggle, he made it and pushed himself into the chute using the emergency handles engineering would use to get down into the recycler should it break. When he was snug inside it, he gave himself a rest briefly, then began his long, torturous descent up.

When Spock popped out of the trash chute, he was most relieved to see he had made it to one of the chutes in engineering and all had managed to quiet down. He laid on the floor for only an instant, before he picked himself up the best he could and looked around. The hydropumps circled around him like terran snakes and the area looked empty save for automatic computer systems and blipping machines. If he kept going straight, he'd reach the matter and anti-matter chambers, but sparks and smoke told him that what the evil McCoy had said had been slightly true. It appeared one of their engines had been damaged. But if there was damage, where were the repairing engineers?

As if some cosmic force was against him, or maybe just loved to toy with him, a wandering crewman spotted the Vulcan and made a quick shout for the others.

"He's over here! Stop where you are Commander!" The crewman approached him cautiously and with hands ready to grab his phaser. Spock wavered and peered around to judge his options. In a matter of seconds, more would arrive. He didn't want to, but it appeared he was going to have to fight them and make a dash for the emergency chutes. "Don't move!" he ordered his superior. "I'm warning you!"

Spock stood proud and tall, lifting his classic brow as he said, "I believe this is where the terran phrase: 'don't hold your breath' would be appropriate." As predicted, the ensign's faces twisted into confusion and Spock charged at him. The ensign drew his phaser, getting ready to fire when Spock kicked out his feet and managed to knock the ensign to the ground and slide into oncoming officers, making them all topple backwards with the crewman's weight. Spock rolled and picked himself up quickly, briskly running in the opposite direction where he knew the emergency chutes would be accessed. Not long after, more security teams and officers arrived, blockading him temporarily, but using his restrained arms to his advantage, he dropped to the floor and managed to slide beneath and between them. Once stopped, he rolled away evading the grasping hands and confused feet until he could roll himself back up again and keep on the chase.

There were now fourteen officers chasing him, and though they had drawn their phasers, none wanted to shoot, much to Spock's advantage. He led them on, running about and making twisting turns to loose some of them in the extensive mass of engineering equipment. With this tactic, he managed to loose eight officers, but where they would pop up next was a guess. He only hoped that they had forced themselves into dead ends and none would burst out of a surprise area in front of him.

The words EMERGENCY LIFTS glowed in bright red above the far door. Though he was loosing his breath, Spock kept his pace and charged for it. Some of the officers were closing in behind him, but they wouldn't make it in time. By the time they could get a hand on him, the door would be opened and he'd be safely inside the chute. He ran and ran, straining his legs to move him faster. The door was coming fast, just a few more feet and—

With his tunnel vision on the door, Spock hadn't seen the trip wire and upon hitting it, an old mechanism was released and a tight rope strung around his ankle, yanking his feet out from under him and pulling him up off the floor. The motions had been so quick that his mind had barely registered it all before he was swinging upside down by his ankle in front of a very tired looking team. Peering at his ankle, he had been stopped by nothing more than rope and with his hands still in restraints, he couldn't untie himself to break free.

It wasn't logical to fight now, so Spock stabled his breathing and let himself swing side to side, upside down, for the crewmen to laugh at like a Vulcan piñata, readying to take him back to the brig.

The officers all took his example and began regaining their breaths, then all went quiet. Each moved aside uniformly for a figure that was quickly approaching the hanging Vulcan. The person walked smoothly, proudly, confidently with his dark boots and faultless uniform. It was slightly difficult to crane his neck to look at the person, but Spock managed to look into the face of the strange, dark officer. He had short, bowl-cut dark bangs, with pointed ears, a small patch of hair just below his bottom lip and a hideous scar vertical down his right eye, making the iris light yellow instead of deep brown. There was no doubt that this man was the evil mirror counterpart of his younger self.

The evil Vulcan turned his head quizzically and raised his brow formally before logically twisting to the officers who didn't look at all surprised to see two Commander Spocks. That only left the logical conclusion that these men were also from the mirrorverse and had been smuggled aboard somehow.

"One Vulcan." The other Spock said calmly, the officers falling into a strict line and huffing their breasts strongly. "You were told you capture _one Vulcan_ and you all managed to fail." His voice was baritone, sinister, and filled with an unknown easy tension. "Please tell me," he started while he halted in front of a sweating officer, "why is it that _I_ had to be called upon to capture _one Vulcan_; and not just any Vulcan, but a lowly, weak, pitiful excuse for a half-breed?" The officers didn't speak, only tried to calm their nerves and prevent their sweating.

"Well?" He asked the poor man in front of him. "Why is that?"

"Because you are superior to us." The man barked on cue. Then quickly, like a flash of light, the officer gave a grunt. Blood dribbled down his chin and the evil Spock removed from his chest a single dagger.

"Correct." He whispered while wiping the dirtied blade on the injured man's uniformed shoulder. In three-point-two seconds, the man hit the floor with a loud _thud!_ The other officers quivered and tried not to look. The evil Spock then tossed his eyes towards the swinging, upside down Vulcan. "Take him to the transporter room and have him beamed directly into the brig. If I see so much as _one_ falter in this order, you will all join your friend here." In one swift motion, all the officers threw their fist to their chests and then extended it in an unruly salute to the Empire. The other Spock inclined his head, then walked away as the officers were dismissed and began to take him down from his trap.

It took most of his strength to quell the sudden fear in his heart from seeing such a brutal, evil version of himself.

…

As Spock was led back to the transporter room, he felt his heart sink into his hips. Everywhere he looked, crewmen he'd known lied on the floor, sprawled out, dead. Blood staining their uniforms and the walls. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that this had become a sudden take-over. Whatever the mirrorverse had planned, they had planned it well, at least until they needed to kill off all of those who meant nothing to them. He shuddered at the thought that he was being kept alive when, statically, the chances of the landing party remaining alive were slim. Now looking at the dead crew around him, the slim was slowly becoming a nothing.

Just like when he'd found his counterpart lying in the New Vulcan desert, passed, and alone, Spock felt this was entirely his fault. Like he could have somehow prevented all this from happening if he'd remembered soon enough. There was nothing logical about thinking on it, so Spock allowed himself to feel the guilt and shame only, but kept his steps proud and strong as they walked him to his prison.

Five men joined him on the transporter pad once they arrived. All trained disruptors on him, daring him to run again. It's not like he would, given how the situation appeared. A complete take-over of the _Enterprise_. He knew the captain from his universe would be ashamed of him right now, if he were still alive, and yet, Spock held his head high, schooled his face into neutrality, and waited. After many silent moments, the order was given. All twinkled out of reality in unison, the last thing Spock hearing was the cruel laughter of some officer.

…


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - It's been a while, but I'm one of those people who get a great idea then suddenly hit writer's block for a while. I am sorry! *bow*bow* Please accept this chapter as my apology.

…

With heavy disruptors forced into his back, the five officers pushed him down a long, horrible smelling, hall. It smelled of blood, rotting flesh, and burning equipment. The brig of the _ISS Enterprise_ didn't look any different from their own, save for the smells and blood stains. It truly was an evil mirror of their own ship.

They passed many cells, most empty, and few with trembling, sleeping and/or dead prisoners. Most looked Human, but some were Orion, Klingon, and Vulcan. This world looked nothing like how the Captain Kirk of his universe had relayed to him. He had been told that the mirror counterparts were evil, but cleanly and thorough with their destructive nature. But this… this was torture only sick, twisted creatures were capable of. Or perhaps, his Time's Jim Kirk had been lucky not to have been thrown in the brig.

The end of the hall snuck up on him since his senses were distracted by the sheer cruelty around him. They paused, one officer opened the loud, creaking door to a cell, then the other four pushed Spock harshly inside. So hard that he hit the floor, scratching his face in grit and grime. The door locked behind him, shutting with its horrible sounds. A _click_ was heard, then they were gone.

The Vulcan maneuvered himself so he could sit with his legs crossed, but arms comfortably behind him in the restraints. Observing his surroundings, he noted that his cell housed no cot, a small bucket in the corner, and a torn blanket hung off a hook in the upper right. Klingon prison cells were said to be very similar to this and typically meant that the captors did not shelter prisoners long. Dim lighting kept most of the bloodstains from view, but the smell alone was enough to tell Spock that many persons died in here daily. What did these sadistic fiends plan to do with him?

"Spock?" The familiar voice broke his thoughts. Spock searched around until he focused on the dark figure in the cell next to his. Dividing prison bars separated them, but the bars wouldn't keep him from recognizing the other figure.

"Jim!" Both men rushed to the cell divider, Jim grasping the bars with his hands while Spock leaned forward against them, trying to use his superior vision and the dim lighting to see the captain.

"It is you!" Jim gasped, lighting from a broken overhead floodlight streaming across his delicate features. Before Spock could give a reply, his voice caught in his throat as he examined Jim. The captain was covered in stains, cuts and abrasions lining his face and body, with tears in his uniform and his hair matting to his forehead with perspiration. Bruises were barely visible, but visible enough to know Jim had been thrown around again, but what really caught his attention was Jim's left foot. Even through the darkness and the captain's attempt to hide it, Spock could see the shuddering limp and the swollen flesh through the thick boot.

"You are injured." Spock declared.

Jim was quick to downplay it. "It's just a sprain. No worries."

"I can see the swelling through your boot. It would be wise to remove the pressure." For once, Jim didn't argue with him (a very telling that Jim _was_ hurt) and slid down the divider until he was sitting on the floor. Spock joined him, kneeling, while Jim removed the offending boot. "Where are the others?" The Vulcan asked. Jim paused, hesitated, then continued to remove the boot.

"I don't know." His voice was low, whisper-like, ashamed. The boot popped off, causing Jim moderate pain, if his throwing of said boot and shouting a curse was anything to judge by. He watched the captain calm down, then turned hard blue eyes to him in what Spock thought looked like obvious pain. "When we were beaming back up from Halkan, something felt wrong to me. I figured it was the transporter acting up due to the ion storm, but… when the flickering stopped and I could see in front of me again, we were inside what looked to be the transporter room but covered in horrible symbols. Then—we were jumped. One by one by strong officers of both Human and Vulcan species." He shook his head, like the memory was too much. "After we were restrained, I was encountered by… well…" he fumbled for many moments. Spock patiently waited. "I was encountered by… _you_. Well, not really you, but another you with a soul-patch and a horrible long scar across your—his right eye." Jim visibly quivered. "Quite honestly, that was the scariest damn Vulcan I've ever met! He makes Nero look like a grade-schooler packing a Hello-Kitty lunch box."

"Yes." Spock said, not really agreeing with his strange, humourous metaphor, "I also encountered this counterpart." Jim flicked his eyes over him, shame and guilt swaying in his gaze. "It is how I ended up here." Spock continued. "I was with Dr. McCoy when I discovered that he was an imposter. Shortly after, he attempted to use my trauma as a way to distract the crew into thinking I was unstable. I… ran." Both men moved so they were closer to the divider, Jim leaning on his shoulder and Spock dipping his forehead a little lower. Both men were very tired. It was many more seconds before he continued. "I devised a plan to escape to the Bridge, mutiny the imposter captain and use the entire _Enterprise_ as a hostage to retrieve the information of their plans or the landing party's location—nevertheless, I was apprehended before I could complete my mission and brought here against my will."

"Those bastards." Jim's voice was grim, angry.

"I have limited data, but what I could gather from the imposters is that they planned to take-over the _Enterprise_ and frame the Halkans for the attacks. I am uncertain why." A loud _clang_ made both men look up.

"Then allow me to enlighten you." On the other side of the bars stood a very elderly looking Vulcan with two security guards. His hair was death-white, a long beard lying across his chest with steepled fingers positioned on top. He wore dark, black robes with the crest of the Empire, and his eyes were sickly yellow looking, with deep, harsh pupils. Jim visibly swallowed, but Spock felt his mouth go dry. "Allow me to introduce myself, Captain Kirk, I regret that we have not met properly." the elderly Vulcan started, ignoring the intensity he was causing, "I—am Spock." His voice lingered on each word with the pride only a Vulcan could fathom.

Jim pointed a hard finger at his first officer. "No, _that's_ Spock." He slammed the finger towards the elder. "_You're_ a sick fuck."

"Indeed." He offered, while the two guards unlatched Jim's cell door. After the horrible creaking sounds and teeth-shattering-worthy metal grating against metal, the elder Vulcan stepped into the captain's holding cell. Jim braced for attack, looking like a cat about to pounce when he stilled. The elder Vulcan held in his hand a disruptor, but the device wasn't pointing at Jim, it was pointing at Spock. "That would not be wise." The elder warned. The disruptor was trained perfectly on Spock, and the younger Vulcan dare not move. Jim hesitated, looked at him, then back to the enemy. Hatred bled from his hard gaze.

"James Kirk." The elder Vulcan started, ignoring the intensity he had aroused in the Human, "My, how time and space has changed you."

"What do you want?" Jim demanded. The elderly man paused, letting his eyes roll over the captain.

"You." He stated flatly. "I want _you_." Both captives' eyes went wide, though Spock didn't allow the confusion to show on his features. Their enemy continued. "You see, Captain Kirk, a long time ago, on this precise stardate, on this exact starship, you were traded with my captain." Jim went to speak, but the old Vulcan stopped him by raising his other, unarmed hand, "You would not remember it, young Kirk, for that was another time. Another _universe_." He paused for effect. "During these events, you paraded as my captain, fooling myself and my crew into thinking you were one of us—and going soft. You wanted some _changes_ around our ship, and your first mistake was when you disobeyed the Empire's orders to annihilate the Halkans."

"Why would I annihilate them? The Halkans may be _the_ most annoying diplomats in the cosmos, but they're a peaceful people. At least, in _my_ universe, they are." The elder nodded.

"You are correct, Kirk, they are a peaceful people, however, their planet holds the largest deposit of dilithium than any other mining planet. Our Empire wanted it."

Jim interrupted. "But let me guess, they wouldn't give it to you because they knew you'd use it for destruction?"

"Yes. It was most regrettable that the order to destroy the Halkans held true, but we did not anticipate our firepower being so strong as to destroy not only the Halkans, but also the dilithium. They became useless." Jim rolled his eyes.

"So you decided instead to invade my universe just to get your dilithium fix? Or was that a damn order from your fucking Empire too!" Instantly, like the elderly Vulcan wasn't elderly at all, he charged across the cell, pulled Jim up by his torn uniform and threw him against the wall with a heavy hand, the other training the disruptor directly to the captain's temple. The old Vulcan's face was dangerously close to Jim's, and their voices dropped to bare whispers.

"There is no Empire. Not where I am from, Kirk." His voice was still level, even given the situation. "You convinced me to the logic of peace. You told me to take command from my captain, _my friend_, and change the Empire into something like your worthless Federation. I listened, Kirk. _I listened._" Vulcan strength, even in the elderly, was proven when the elder evil Spock picked Jim up and threw him across the cell. He wasn't finished and approached the aching Kirk who struggled to get back up, but the older man grabbed him tightly about his neck, lurched him upright, then threw him again to clang against the cell bars heavily. He dropped to the barren, stained floor, coughing, choking. Once again, harsh hands tightened into his uniform collar and threw him up against the wall, holding him steady with the disruptor back in place at his head. The elder didn't look phased by any of the actions.

"And by listening," he breathed, "do you know what happened?" Jim's head lolled and his eyes blearily blinked until it looked like he could focus again. "I gained unimaginable power. I took over the _Enterprise_, but I did not stop there. I went on to become a political figure and soon, I was made the Praetor of the Empire."

"Sounds like a sweet deal to me." Jim bit off sarcastically. Though uncalled for, it was actually a blessing to hear Jim still had smart remarks, because that meant he was still conscious and thinking properly. The Vulcan shook him hard.

"As Praetor, I used your advice and made the Empire like your Federation. I started with reforms (which, I will remind you, caused internal wars and bloodshed) and soon, the Empire changed into one of peace. We were diplomatic, but this did not mean our enemies would welcome our new ways. Oh no, Kirk, much worse happened. Because we had become peaceful, our Empire was conquered. We did not stand a chance against the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. Then I _watched_," he punctuated 'watched' with a hard squeeze of his hand on Jim's throat, "as countless followers, countless innocents, and my own James Kirk were forced into slavery. Each one of us was enslaved to serve the more powerful Alliance. Have you ever been a slave, Kirk?" Jim blinked and fought with the hand restricting his air. "I do not think you have. Your universe was fortunate enough that you did not go through a horrible childhood on Tarsus IV. You know nothing of true slavery and true loss." His grip became tighter, Jim's breaths shallowing. He kept gripping, gripping, so hard that even in the dim lighting, Spock could see the captain's face turning red. Then he released him and Jim dropped promptly to the floor, gasping for air and rolling over on his back. "I will teach you, James Kirk." The elderly Vulcan promised. "I _will_ teach you. Starting with your universe's Halkans."

Jim stared up at him, his chest heaving up and down and slowing as the air was allowed entrance. The elder looked at the younger Spock, then traded his sights for his guards. "Come. We have much to prepare." Spock watched as the elderly Vulcan stepped over Jim's shaken frame and exited from the cell. It shut tightly and the enemies disappeared down the long corridors.

With all the knowledge Spock had gained, he now knew who the Vulcan was. He _was_ Spock, the same Spock his previous captain had encountered all those years ago during the mirrorverse effect. _My own mirror counterpart._ It appeared the man had been taken from his universe quite like him and dropped in an alternate reality too. Now in his counterpart's universe, he was doing quite what Spock himself was doing. He was changing history. Restoring his life to a glory he'd never known. Spock searched Jim on the floor, still sore and breathing. His thoughts were broken when he heard a choked sob and felt angry emotions slam into him like a tidal wave. Spock had no time to lift his mental shields.

"God_damnit!_" Jim shouted, pounding his fist into the floor, making a few of his knuckles pop. He began shouting curses over and over, picked himself up from the floor and began thrashing around, ignoring his own wounds and escalating his voice higher and higher, screaming profanities and punching the prison bars until the smell of fresh blood washed over him. Then he went silent, dropped to the floor again, and let out the tiniest tremble of tears. Jim cradled his swollen ankle, then closed his eyes to let tears seep out from underneath them. Spock didn't know what to do.

After much sniffling and forbidden tears, Spock moved to the divider as close to Jim as he could. "Jim." He called in a whisper, but Jim didn't look at him. He called for him again and again, but the Human refused to look. Spock fell silent and sat that way for many seconds, when suddenly Jim looked up. Their eyes met at once. With the locked gaze, Jim scooted himself closer to the divider, pushed his hand through the bars and cupped Spock's chin. His fingers lingered for some time, then moved towards his eyes where he pulled his fingers away and shown large droplets wetting them. Spock was crying and he hadn't noticed until then.

They cried together and Spock tried to hide it, to deny it, to block it away, but he couldn't hide from Jim. There was never a need to hide around him, but he had to show he was still strong. He had to. In all their troubles and perils, Spock needed to remain strong enough for the both of them. It was too bad his tears didn't agree with him, falling silently without his permission. They knew, just as he knew, all this could have been prevented if only he had remembered soon enough.

"Spock," Jim barely whispered through a small sob and he reached through the bars with both his hands and embraced him. The cold bars stood between them, blocking them from any further contact, but this didn't stop Jim. He pulled on Spock tighter and tighter. How he wished he could have embraced him back! Spock's hands were still restrained behind him so the clasp was very one-sided.

"I am sorry, Jim." Spock admitted, though he knew the captain wouldn't understand exactly what he was apologizing for. Jim, expectantly, interpreted it wrong.

"I know you can't hold me back. Don't blame yourself. Just let me hold you." And Spock allowed it. Both of them silently crying on the other, cursing the prison bars mentally, and holding as tightly as both could. They were prisoners of an alternate world, but Spock was thankful for his counterpart's death. He was most gratuitous that it was he who was going through this torture and not his younger self. It didn't make the situation any better, but at least his counterpart was resting peacefully in the cosmos.

Both men fought to hold back their sobs, but it was difficult, more for Jim than Spock. After a few moments, Spock had stopped completely, shutting the emotional door of his Human-half in hopes to provide Jim the strength he needed. This Jim was just how he remembered him—still so strong, but still so fragile. It was no doubt that Jim was blaming himself for all of this, and it wasn't like Spock could tell him different, lest he wished to reveal his secret. That made him feel the tinge of anxiety again, but as before, Spock shut the emotional door. He was Vulcan. He would be strong.

Jim's embrace tightened unexpectedly, hands moving around him awkwardly. Spock pulled back a little to see what was wrong, but stopped when he heard a sharp, breaking noise and suddenly, his wrists were free. Spock pulled out of Jim's arms and brought his own to his front, staring down at his hands like they were alien to him. In Jim's hand was the metal restraints, in the other was a ring of small keys, and on his face was the largest, sliest grin Spock had ever seen.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios, Spock." The tears were gone, though the stains remained, giving the captain a look of determination Spock was familiar with.

He collected himself methodically and logically. "I am to assume you have a plan?" Jim offered a slight nod. The Vulcan gave a little smile and was uncertain if he had pulled it away in time. The grin remained on Jim's face neither denying it nor confirming he'd seen it. No-win scenarios, indeed.

…

Captain Kirk and Spock used the shadows and dim lighting of the brig to their own advantage, though it was slightly difficult with Jim's minor limp. Both hid behind walls and on a silent cue, took out the remaining crew left guarding the brig. There had only been four guards. Apparently, this other elder Spock had underestimated the captain's knack for spoiling even the most well thought out plans. That or most of the crew were already aboard their _Enterprise_.

With a silent order, both commanding officers began to undress the unconscious guards and replacing their uniforms with those of the evil men.

"So this is an evil copy of our universe." Jim said while removing all torn clothing. "That means that we both already know this ship inside and out. If we can get to the transporter room without being seen, we can beam back over to our universe, take back control of the _Enterprise_ and get those imposters off my ship."

"I find your plan vague, Captain." Spock told him while changing his uniform pants. "What do you plan to do when we are out-numbered? Or perhaps recaptured?" Jim blinked at him, smiled, shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"Wing it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. We'll wing it. I guess this is a horrible time to tell you that nearly all the plans I've ever made have been based on blind luck, not logic." Spock stopped mid-pull of his uniform shirt.

"You are correct. This is the most unfortunate time." Jim smiled and finished putting on the red uniform shirt, grimacing now and then for his sore appendage. He then reached over and pat Spock's shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" His eyes were sincere, blazing a hot blue that the Vulcan had never witnessed. That was an illogical question. Of course Spock trusted him, and he told him as such. "Good," Jim continued, "then follow my lead." He offered a wink and peered around the nearest corner while Spock finished.

They started by sneaking out of the brig. With the new uniforms, they wouldn't be suspected as enemies or recognized completely, but Spock was quick to remind the captain that they looked just like their counterparts. Jim came to halt halfway down the hall, then quickly turned a different corner with Spock on his heels.

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Spock." The captain told him with a hint of deviousness. "If we're going to sneak around the ship, why not do it by hiding in plain sight?" Spock said nothing, waiting for him to finish his thoughts. "How great are your acting skills?" He asked suddenly while they dodged a group of officers.

"Vulcans do not act." Spock firmly replied.

"Great, you'll do perfectly."

"Captain—" Spock hadn't a chance to voice his concerns as the captain darted off down the hall, his limp very noticeable. He wanted to offer assistance, but he knew Jim wouldn't take it, so he simply followed. With his memory, Spock knew that Jim was leading them to Sickbay. He could only speculate why this was so. He had a tiny shred of illogical hope that it was to tend to his swollen foot.

They entered cautiously, but hurriedly, locking the door closed behind them. Spock observed their surroundings and found that the Sickbay was identical, except that where medicines were stored in their universe, there were horrible looking instruments hanging on the wall. The smell of antiseptic enveloped him, but Jim didn't stop to complain about it. He immediately started rummaging through the supplies and equipment, looking for something but obviously not finding it. He turned over papers, opened drawers, and lifted up materials.

"Captain, what is it that you are searching for?"

The response was quick. "Make-up." He continued to rummage. "I figured this was a good chance to try out my sick fantasy to dress up like a woman." Spock raised a brow pointedly. Jim waved him off. "I'm joking. I'm looking for something that we can use to make you look like your evil self." He slightly laughed. "Like _I_ would dress up as a woman." He muttered under his breath playfully. Knowing they didn't have much time, and still not understanding where Jim was going with this, Spock expedited the process by helping to look around for anything that would help him look like his mirror counterpart.

Spock searched around in a more organized manner than Jim, but was turning up nothing he could use. He decided then to check the supply closet for grafting synthetics and it was there Spock stumbled upon something most helpful.

In the back of the supply room sat a very angry looking, very disgruntled, and _very_ tied up Dr. McCoy. Spock blinked. "Dr. McCoy!" The name was more than enough to grab Jim's attention from whatever he was tornado-throughing just then. Both men went inside and fell to their knees where they began untying him. Spock had the honour to rip the tape off his mouth.

"It's about _damn time_ you showed up to rescue me!" Spock looked at the doctor, then back at the tape. The gesture was more than enough to make McCoy snarl. "Put that damn thing back on me and I'll string you up by your pointy, green ears!"

"Well, Bones is safe." Jim chuckled as the doctor stood up with them, shaking off the rope and restraints.

"Doctor, do you know where the others are located?" Spock asked. McCoy dusted himself and fixed his uniform.

"Yeah. They took Scotty somewhere in engineering and Uhura was taken by—and I'm not kidding in the least bit—_Sulu_. To his quarters. When that boy saw her, he had the dirtiest grin on his face I'd ever seen! That other Vulcan just let him take her."

"Other Vulcan?" Spock asked.

"Yeah, a really old one." Jim and Spock switched glances. McCoy caught on quickly. "You guys know something." Jim pulled on the doctor's sleeve.

"I'll explain while you help us out. We need to find something that'll help make Spock look like his evil self." McCoy threw dirty looks around the Vulcan.

"Looks evil enough to me." Spock ignored the comment. The doctor sighed when he realized the Vulcan wasn't going to take his bait and reached beside him to grab a container. "Alright. This grafting synthetic should be enough to make a fake scar, and we can use a small film of it to make a contact lens. But you can't wear it longer than twenty-four hours or the grafted skin may attach permanently, giving you two different coloured eyes or possibly make you blind if it doesn't allow enough oxygen to get through. I don't know which since I haven't had to make contact lenses since the Academy."

"Fifty-fifty shot of different coloured eyes or blindness. The odds couldn't be more in our favour." Jim smarted. They began filing out of the supply closet, Jim was trying to walk normal, but failed. Dr. McCoy caught the limp.

"Jim! You're injured!"

"So what else is new?" McCoy turned directly to Spock.

"How long have you been letting him walk on it?" Jim calmly placed his hands on the doctor to steer him away from the Vulcan.

"It's not his fault. I chose to walk on it. Look, if it will make things go a little smoother, I'll let you play doctor as long as you get him looking evil in less than twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes!" McCoy snapped.

"We don't have much time." Jim warned. "We gotta save Scotty and Uhura, get to the transporter room and get my ship back. I don't know how many officers were left on board here, but I'm going assume that when they discover us missing from the brig and that some unlucky officer is missing his keys, they're not exactly gonna roll out the red carpet." The doctor had Jim sit up on a medical table and had already begun searching for doctor utensils to help with Jim's injury. Spock helped and soon Jim's injured foot was wrapped tightly with a splint.

"Telling you to stay off of it probably isn't going to happen." McCoy grumbled. Jim confirmed his thoughts.

"Nope. But, rest assured, my dear doctor, with what I've planned, I won't have to walk on it." The doctor eyed him. Spock was still uncertain what the plan was. Both men stared at the Human to get some answers. Jim didn't flinch under the scrutiny as he dropped off the medical table. He didn't elaborate any further, but experience told Spock that that meant Jim's plan was one either one or both of them would not agree to. He was stalling on purpose. Whatever the case, neither Spock nor the doctor inquired any further. Spock got on the medical table to let Bones work, and together with Jim, he was remodeled.

…

Time was of the essence.

It had taken longer than Jim had wanted, but with Dr. McCoy explaining the difficulties of processing and forming a contact lens from grafting skin, it was more logical to take precaution than chance blindness.

While the _real_ doctor did his work, Jim stood by the door as look-out. Dr. McCoy was almost finished when Jim gave a whispered curse.

"What is it, Jim?" McCoy berated, probably thinking Jim had slammed his injured foot again. Jim limped quickly over to them.

"I think that's evil Chapel coming down the hall. Are you finished yet?"

"No! I've got to set this lens just right! Any mistakes and the damn Vulcan might as well have _came_ here blind!" Footsteps were heard outside. Jim grasped the doctor's arm.

"We've got no time! We have to hide!"

"Jim!" But the call went unheard as Jim violently shoved Bones backwards and back into the supply closet. The door opened and closed easily around them, leaving Spock on the medical table with a home-made scar and unfinished lens. Thinking quickly, Spock took a chance and popped the lens in just before the Sickbay doors opened. If he'd go blind, then that was that, but thankfully, the Vulcan was able to see the blonde woman walk in and stop surprised.

"Commander?" She asked. Spock looked her over, there was no doubt this woman was Christine Chapel's counterpart, but she didn't look as cruel as the others. In fact, she looked the same save for her blue uniform which was more revealing. "What are you doing in Sickbay? I thought Captain Kirk had ordered you to the transporter room?" Vulcans were not actors, mainly because they were shitty liars. Mustering up his strength, Spock convinced himself that acting was not a form of lying, but a form of entertainment—so _technically_ he could 'perform' for her. But the notion left a bitter taste in his mouth, so instead, he decided to say as little as possible and hope she would interpret the rest.

"I had a medical emergency and beamed back for treatment." There. Not a complete lie, just vague. Very vague. She looked at him curiously, switching glances between him and the dataPADD in her hands.

"Were you injured?" She asked innocently.

"All I required was grafting synthetic." She offered a confused nod.

"I see." Her voice, though soft, was suspicious as she eyed the container on the medical table. "You must forgive my surprise, Commander, it's just unlike Dr. McCoy not to alert me."

Spock nodded curtly. "There is no need, Nurse. I have obtained what I came here for and now I must return to the Transporter Room." The Vulcan ignored her as he thought his evil counterpart might do and grasped the container like that was what he came here for all along. Then the turned back to a different scene.

A knife was pointed at his throat, the evil Christine Chapel appearing like the others of this universe and not like the Christine he knew at all. Her smile was devious and much like a snake about to snap at its prey. Spock raised his hands slowly as the knife tip came closer. He looked down at the smaller woman and waited for her explanation with hard, unmoving eyes.

"Is wearing one of our security uniforms apart of Praetor Spock's plans as well, Mr. Spock?" She began pushing him back with the blade, leading him towards the wall. "You must forgive my lack of belief." This was true, he was still wearing the stolen security uniform and that would immediately halt any plans he could make based on performing as his younger self's evil counterpart. With no point in lying, Spock nodded.

"You are forgiven. Vulcans do not make a habit of deceit." Something in his throat tightened in that moment as he thought on those words. They hadn't been entirely true had they? Hadn't his plan to resume his counterpart's life been based on deceit?

In the midst of thinking on what deceit actually stood for, Spock fell victim to the nurse's handling and found himself being turned and forced unabashedly on to the wall with his front. He grunted on impact, but otherwise made no further noises. While thinking about deceit and every definition attributed to it via every language he could comprehend, only then did Spock discover a plan.

This could very well work in his favour, however illogical it seemed to him. A part of him didn't want to 'perform' any further, but he was left with little choice since his commanding officers were still hiding out in the supply closet. Spock thought quickly and mentally prepared himself.

"Nurse Chapel, you will release me at once or suffer the consequences." The nurse stopped briefly, laughing under her breath as she began searching his flanks for weapons. "Do not force me to use action." She continued to ignore him and patting him down with knife to neck when it happened.

Spock spun in her grip, catching her off balance as he turned the tables and threw her slender body against the wall where he had just occupied. She shouted and suddenly screamed for security, Spock ended it by using the Vulcan Nerve Pinch, watching her frame fall delicately to the floor. It would only be a few more moments before security would arrive. He picked her up gently in his arms and turned on cue to see three security men enter. They stopped quickly, taking in the sights of their 'Commander'.

Spock had anticipated this and breathed to steady his mind. All this lying was unbecoming of a Vulcan. The three security men paused to give a salute, Spock nodded since his arms were full. He then handed her body over hurriedly and scoffed at her like she was disgusting to him. "Nurse Chapel is suffering from insubordination. Lock her in her quarters for the next twenty-four hours."

All three stared at him in awe. Spock snapped. "Do you dare question the authority of your commanding officer, let alone direct orders from the Praetor?" They jumped in unison, shaking their heads and giving multiple 'no, sir's. "Then I suggest you do as you are told!" He stepped forward once, and that was all it took for the security men, though probably curious about his whereabouts and uniform, to take Chapel and rush out from the room. Now that others had seen him, they probably had little time to further Jim's plans, whatever they were. When the door shut snuggly, Spock turned on his heels and opened the supply closet.

"We must go. Now." The look on Jim's face was in the exact opposite reaction he expected. Jim was smiling. Dr. McCoy, however, looked at he always did. They filed out after Spock, Jim limping forward.

"That was amazing!" Jim cheered.

"Your gratitude it appreciated, Captain, but Nurse Chapel's untimely interference does not leave us much time before someone alerts the elder." McCoy smacked Jim's arm.

"I told you we should have grabbed him too!"

"There wasn't time, besides, Spock was more than capable of handling his part." Jim winked. "This will make the rest of the plan go smoother." Spock hid his sigh well as he stared at the injured captain.

"And what _is_ the plan, Captain?" Jim fell silent, looking like he was in thought, and for a moment, illogically, Spock hoped the young captain's plan didn't involve any more lying or 'performing'. Spock was already in 'knee-deep' as the humans would say, and was beginning to find himself repulsive for acting so very unvulcan.

The things one did for love.

…


End file.
